The only good thing about my town
Clocks going back.
Drying in the rain.
Tree tourism
Taunton is an entirely nondescript sort of place. It is not the fashionable end of Somerset. It doesn't have much to recommend it beyond its proximity to the M5 and some wonderful hills to the north (the Quantocks), the south (the Blackdowns) and the east (the Mendips). The town itself is infinitely forgettable.
However. Someone, somewhere, cared very much about Taunton's trees. There is a dull little road, home to my vets, a tesco express, some sad looking rows of houses, that has the most wonderful trees. There are huge white rowans, a range of wonderful varieties of crab apples, each laden with the darkest of fruits, liquidambers in every shade and hue that are now glowing in the October light. Further along there are cornuses, and chesnuts, and a selection of hawthorns in the most glorious shapes. (The one as you turn to cross over the M5 bridge, the least romantic of all places, has a hawthorn in the most perfect shade of pink when it is in blossom.) There is even a pair of weeping pears. My mother tells me that Taunton council once planted a tree for every child in the district, but I cannot imagine that is true.
What I am saying is, now is the time for trees. The flowers are just about holding on, but this end of October season belongs to the trees. Westonbirt is looking utterly spectacular (I am reliably informed), but you don't have to go that far. The park, the street, even the London planes if you are in town. Every colour from deep russet, bold reds, ambers, even sharp acid lemon. The elderberry defies them all fades to a woefully pale whiteish-green. Look up. Look out. There are trees everywhere. What are yours doing?
Now is also a good time to plant trees. If you have any space for one at all, even a small one, the air will thank you.
Monday 21st October. A day in Court in Bristol. The glass windows look out over the rooftops beyond Redcliffe. I spend the wait trying to decide which tulips to order.
Tuesday 22nd October. It is still raining. I start to harvest the smaller of the squash. Their stems are corky and their skins tough. They improve with keeping and I try hard to resist roasting them immediately. Resistance is not entirely successful.
If you have not grown any pumpkins or squashes yourself this year, have you looked in Morrisons? Next to the ubiquitous but disappointing butternuts, there is likely to be a box of mixed squash. I have found the most wonderful crown princes, potimarrons, sweet dumplings, even kabochas. They are a pound each. I have been known to clear the lot. They will last until February, and get better all the time.
Thursday 24th October. A blur of packing orders. A box to Bolina in Norway. A box to the Future Kept. More ribbon arrives. More envelopes. I reuse packaging wherever and whenever I can, which does not make for a tidy studio. There are unexpected flowers in the matrix planting, second crops from the plants that have flowered early and have self sown, all in the same season. Fresh daucus. A single but beautiful echinops. Sweet rocket flowers gamefully on. (It's meant to be out in May and over by June.)
Friday 25th October. The soap arrives. Saipua soap. I cannot believe the scent that fills the room. Coffee Mint is the strongest but I smell each in turn. The labels are letter pressed in perfect copper foil. Each individually wrapped in the most fantastic designs. I open the french green clay first but it is unlikely that I will be able to restrict myself to just one. Saltwater as well maybe. Charcoal perhaps. Gardener's soap with cornmeal and spearmint?
Saturday 26th October. With an eye on the weather forecast, the day is spent indoors. The dyer's bundles continue to be very popular and are posted all over the country. I love writing out the address labels. Argyll and Bute is a favourite. Tugby. Joy Lane.
Sunday 27th October. Finally finally finally. A dry day. The sun is warm and it is as if the rain has never been. We walk and the girls chase pheasants with joyous abandon. I weed as much of the kitchen garden as I can do in the time I have. I harvest the remaining huge pumpkins, slapping them gently to check they sound hollow. They are put in the greenhouse. I wish they had had longer in the sun, but as there has been no sun to be had, there seems little point leaving them to get cold as the weather turns. The cornflowers have been flowering since May and are starting to look tired. I cut the last perfect ones for pressing and let the rest go. The dahlias are tired too and have mildew. Blooms that are just coming out and haven't yet started to turn their petals back are put in the trolley and brought into the house for hanging and drying. Roses are having a second flush and those still in bud are taken too. They will be used for the wreath workshop at Christmas. (The steel is rusting in the courtyard, waiting for me to cut and bend it.) The hydrangeas are poached from my mother's tiny walled garden.
I hope you enjoyed the sunshine too. It really was rather wonderful wasn't it?
