General

The golden leaves come as a happy flash mob to brighten up the brook.

General

The brook is the poster child for the art of positive chaos, for the golden boats of autumn time adorn its sweet harbour. No master of old could have made a picture as pretty as this.

General

White water weaves, flowing threads within the brook, amid rocks crowned in verdant moss.

General

After days or rain-washed streets, the brooks chatter in the hills, mini-rivers creating mini-gorges without concept of scale. Around them the greenery drinks, leaves become boats and their sound upon the rocks sings with a steady confidence, the percussion to the chorus of the birds.