Samhain: The last of the flowers
Did you remember the clocks? Did you wake in the dark and wonder which clock to trust? The year has shifted down another gear and tomorrow, it will be November.
Light a candle and mark Samhain, and the passing of the seasons.
This has been an unhappy sort of autumn. Damp. Middling and muddling. The late summer warmth never really came and the dahlias are wondering it is worth a go at blooming. They might, They might not. Whatever they finally do, it is not a vintage year for them.
The saviour has been the Japanese anemones. They have been flowering happily on the back doorstep* for months now. However, they have been joined by a tall container of cosmos. I do try and avoid doubling up on flowers, not having too many very similar ones flowering at the same time. (I can rarely be bothered with autumn-sown ammi majus for this reason - why shouild I, when there is cow parsley in every hedge?)
What with the slugs and the mad weather though, I am grateful for everything I can get.
*if I could give one single piece of garden design advice, it would be to pay disproportionate attention to the areas that you see every day, or the view outside of the kitchen window.
Foliage
Usually the beech would have turned, but I went over the hills yesterday to see if the woods on the Wellington Road were full of gold, but nothing yet. I adore beech for so many reason, but mostly because of how wonderfully it holds its glowing leaves, and the range of colours that you get when they turn.
But if the beech hasn’t become magical yet, then the amelanchier is making the most of the opportunity, and is taking its turn to shine. I can see it in the hedges from where I sit to write, but I still bring some in the house. More yellow than orange still, but the detail is exquisite.
The things that are hanging on
It is October and I have hesperis in flower. The mirror image of spring in terms of day length means some unexpected jewels. There are also flowers that are just refusing to succumb to the damp cold. I swear the nicotiana have been in flower since May, and I truly will never be without it again.
Ditto Japanese anemones. Hard as nails. Pretty as a picture.
Storing the harvest
For once, I seem to have more vegetables to photograph than flowers. There are apples on every shelf, quinces in huge trugs in every kitchen, and pumpkins taking up places where the plates should be.
These ones belong to Alison Jenkins and Damson Farm. For some reason, although my Marina di Chioggia are a wonderful size, they just don’t knobble like they should.
