A mirror image of spring
Monday 14th September. Something strange is happening. As we approach the second equinox of the year, in amongst the ripening pumpkins and the turning leaves, there is blossom. There are second (third?) flushes of flowers as the early sow annuals have set seed and flowered again. At least, that is my explanation as to why there are blue stars of borage in the meadow and swathes of black scabious. Now why the hedge has odd pops of blossom in it, I have no idea.
Tuesday 15th September. Someone mentioned the other day that the Corfe owl had been silent for some time. The woods in which it lives is full of buzzards all year round, and full of pheasants in the autumn. This evening, we walk down to the stream under a swoop of bats and, as the sun sets, a silent pale owl sails over the cattle field and settles on a fencepost. I stand and watch it with astonishment. It is so beautiful.
Wednesday 16th September. The quince tree has been both prolific and problematic this year. The fruit set well but then fell at the slightest breath of wind. This started almost as soon as the quince were fruiting and we consoled ourself that the crop was heavy enough to tolerate some losses. Today, the last of them falls. Tantalisingly close to being ready. Fully grown if not actually ripe. They are also speckled with black dots which cannot be a good sign. Nevertheless, I line them up on a sunny windowsill and open Tender volume II at ‘Q’.
Thursday 17th September. My favourite sort of seed collecting. There is a chicory that has set seed in kitchen garden. I’m not sure about the taste, but the leaves were so beautiful, streaks of red and the most beautiful copper. The flower spikes have been inconveniently sprawling across the path for months and it is so satisfying to cut them down and push the seeds out into a bowl.
Friday 18th September. There is a pattern to the time of the year, collect seed and sow, collect and sow. Fresh seed that is ready to fall, sprinkled immediately onto warm soil (and the soil will stay warm for a while, even though I can feel the air getting chillier and chiller) will grow better than anything else you can imagine.
Did you see Gardener's World? I know, I got terribly excited about it because Christine Lewis was on it. Her studio is wonderful and she had some amazing swatches of colour on the wall with all the ingredients written on, and I was struck by the dyeing bug all over again. I promised a natural dyeing guide an age ago but we are absolutely going to get it done this time round.
Saturday 19th September. It feels like a day for tidying. I am not a tidy person, but a few hours here and there at this time of year can mean the world over the winter. So I trim hedges. The beech, the hedge germander between the kitchen garden beds. To be fair, these have needed trimming for a while and the hedges have been getting floppier and the beds smaller. I find a row of beetroot I’d forgotten about under the spent flower spikes.
Sunday 20 September. Can I suggest you take the smokey eyes larkspur and put them in the freezer? In the warm evening sunshine, I make a film about direct sowing. You’ll be thrilled to hear that I have got a proper microphone and I can talk and walk at the same time. At least with a bit of practice I will be able to. The film will be on the blog tomorrow and one about indirect sowing by Thursday.
As the world feels more and more uncertain again, seeds and flowers feel even more important. But gardening is also an exercise in acceptance, and as I gather in the harvest of pumpkins and collect the dried borlotti beans, it feels like a preparation for a long winter. I hope whatever you are doing, that you are safe and well.