"To Autumn" Musings from a country garden.

One of my favourite memories from my small village primary school was going off on long walks, collecting treasures from the nearby countryside for the nature table. We walked hand in hand in a crocodile, wrapped up in woolie gloves and duffle coats.  We picked out brightly coloured leaves, acorns that looked like tiny, elfin eggcups, shiny brown conkers with prickly cases, edible beech nuts and highly prized hazelnut filberts to name but a few. It was of course autumn when this took place, and ever since, it has been a time of year that I look forward to with relish.

I have always lived in the country, well, apart from a very short interlude spent in the centre of Leeds, which was something of an endurance test. I realised quickly that I need to see green space, and as much of it as possible in order to keep sane. So, living where I do now, with no next-door neighbours other than a few cattle and sheep and the abundant wildlife that surrounds us, is something that is in my DNA.

This September, the heat and dry conditions we enjoyed all through the summer months continued, albeit for a short while. But then, the much-needed rains arrived after the drought, and the confused plants began to think it was spring again, many putting on spurts of new growth, only for them to have early frosts nip their tender leaves later in the month. Panicked by the sudden change of temperature, I rushed to mulch-up my precious Cardoons, knowing from painful experience, how they hate the cold. Fortunately, the friendly road-tree-surgeons had just dumped several tonnes of Ash bark chippings here, so I thought they would do nicely for the job. As I toiled with the spade and barrow, I noticed that the Achillia ‘Summer White’, was beginning to go over, and that the Dill had already spent its seeds. So, I decided that the following day I would harvest some of the flower and seed heads for drying to make home-grown floral arrangements later in the season.

Having spent my early twenties training under, and then working alongside, a high-society floral designer, I love getting back to making beautiful creations from natures bounty, and when its all produced in my own backyard, its even better. Your hands don’t forget the techniques, it’s that muscle-memory-magic at work again.

I have cut and hung bunches of Echinops ‘Ritro’, a beautiful blue globe thistle. White Eringium, a delicate spray thistle that comes into its own when it captures summer evening light. Bold architectural Cardoons, a showy Victorian favourite and cousin to the Artichoke. Snowy white Achillia ‘Summer White’, which was the nearest cultivar I could find to resemble wild Yarrow, and finally my gorgeous Dill, which smelled mouth-wateringly delicious as I cut its thick, bamboo-like stems. They have all gone up to the studio to dry and I now have to wait, sitting on my hands, until I can use them.

Alongside my flower-harvest, I have also finally taken the decision to ‘finish’ the tomatoes which have done surprisingly well out-of-doors, as we don’t have a glasshouse as yet. A project for next year, I am promised. So, green-tomato chutney has been put on the list of to-dos and until then, they lie in my oak trug and various other receptacles in the back-hall window in the hope that one or two might actually ripen.

I have picked the small number of plums that have appeared on what I thought was an apple tree. The fruiting ‘old wood’ only just coming back after our fairly severe pruning the first year we were here. In a way, having only a small number to stone is a godsend, and they have still made four jars of particularly good jam. The recipe is from my late mother’s preserving book, in which she has hand-written ‘September 1980’. The pages are now spotting with age, but it is such a good and useful little book.

As we approach October, the trees are beginning to turn, from emerald green to burnished gold, and some, to fiery orange and red. The Beeches seem to be the first to take on their splendid autumn garb. I am now on the lookout for unspoilt fallen leaves, Sweet Chestnut particularly because of their exotic shape, for mono-printing projects, and I have begun to gather pine cones from the different types of fir tree we have in our wood, for later Christmassy crafting.  

Dried flowers

Dried flowers

September is a golden month, when summer gently hands over her gracious gifts and autumn, equally gently, takes these bounties and begins to prepare them for their winter slumber. John Keats wrote of autumn being a time of ‘mists and mellow fruitfulness’. This morning, I woke to a thick and chilling fog, so thick I couldn’t see the hills in front of the house. So, the kitchen stove was lit, and porridge was on the breakfast menu.