Ode to Autumn

Nature notes and garden in early autumn.

A stray stand of willowherb sways outside the kitchen window. I could, lean across the sink, and snatch off the top of it, and probably should if I do not want its seeds to float and snag all over the garden, and yet I leave it, dancing in golden September light. The high notes of a Robin Redbreast’s song tumble past it, in through the open window, and on the sill a bowl full of green tomatoes slowly ripen; rescued from the blight that rotted the plants as summer tipped into autumn.

We find ourselves at that funny time of year now, when we need more than one outfit change a day. An extra blanket has snuck onto my side of the bed, but Husband still kicks his sheets off in the night. The morning dawns in mist and owl-song beneath a crescent moon, a glorious seasonal chill, and scented by ripening pears. Later, the day evolves into a hot late-summer afternoon, full of light and warmth and droning wasps. The evening is autumn again, creeping in earlier after dinner each day, bejeweled with bird songs, and the temptation to light the fire and cosy up with a cookery book. Of course, really it is much too soon to be lighting the fire, leastways, not until the sweep has made their annual visit. Instead I warm myself and add a glow to the evening, with a small glass of sloe gin and ginger ale.

We have been decorating the cottage with fresh hops, sent all the way to Sussex from a traditional Herefordshire farm.

I am repeatedly reminded of that most perfect of poems; ‘Ode to Autumn’ by John Keats, one of his last poems, first composed 19 September 1819 after a walk near Winchester (Hampshire, UK), and published in 1820.

‘To Autumn’ - John Keats

 Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, 
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; 
Conspiring with him how to load and bless 
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run; 
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees, 
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; 
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells 
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more, 
And still more, later flowers for the bees, 
Until they think warm days will never cease, 
For Summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells. 

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store? 
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find 
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor, 
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind; 
Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep, 
Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook 
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers: 
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep 
Steady thy laden head across a brook; 
Or by a cyder-press, with patient look, 
Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours. 

Where are the songs of Spring? 
Ay, where are they? 
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,— 
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day, 
And touch the stubble plains with rosy hue; 
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn 
Among the river sallows, borne aloft 
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies; 
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn; 
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
 The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft; 
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

Once, when my weekends were spent tending my allotment, whole days would be filled with harvesting marrows and armfuls of dahlias, potting up jars of chutney, and turning the soil of freshly cleared beds. Now in another season of my life, I have had little time to nurture crops and coax bounty from my garden, this summer, but autumn still arrives with that same sense of fruitful anticipation. There are still nasturtiums, and golden calendula petals to brighten the last salads, and apples to freeze or make crumbles and pies. And then there is the light - that golden slanted light that hangs a little lower in the sky, lending a rosy softness that is so different from the bright glare of high summer.

I have been making plans for collecting summer-dry sticks for kindling, and pine cones for dipping in wax and using as firelighters, before the soaking autumn rains and storms arrive. Hedgerow fruit too has been earmarked for making its way into my basket; finger staining brambles and elderberries that I can stash in the freezer a little at a time, with plans to make variations of that purple sloe gin - last year we were moving house in autumn, and I missed the harvesting window, so my stocks from the previous year are running drastically low. This year, sloes and haws seem thinly adorned and sparse on the thorn hedges locally, so some experimenting seems a good thing.

In the garden

Growth has slowed with the shortening day length, but there are still plenty of jobs to do. A garden that has been largely left to itself whilst its curators were distracted by summer demands, undoubtably will be a little wild and wooly. I tug on tangled nests of brown sweet pea vines, their papery pods rattling with pea seeds, as I pull them from the hazel supports. A few herbaceous perennials, like the thuggish pink hardy Geranium, that were poorly positioned in spring, are dug out, or divided and moved through the cottage garden border. Cuttings from the ‘wildflower lawn’ are removed to the compost bins.

I have begun to consider buying bulbs. Whilst firmly rooted in the Autumnal season, the lure of the bulb catalogues in the morning post have me flicking through pages of early daffodils, easter tulips, and spring carpeting crocus, over my spiced chai tea. Narcissus (daffodil) bulbs can be planted now, although tulips are better waiting until late November when the soil is cooler and more moist, and planted as deep as you can manage, on a frost-free day before Christmas. In the first few weeks after moving into the cottage, I planted ‘Tamara’ and ‘Devon Red’ daffodils in the grass around the apple trees, bending the foot plate on the lovely new long handled bulb planter my Mum brought us, in the process of breaking into the hard chalky soil (sorry Mum!). The foliage was left, unmolested, to die back naturally for 6 weeks or more after flowering, and the hope is that thus well fed by the spring sun’s energy, the bulbs will slowly naturalise and spread for a better display year on year.

I am also looking forward to the snowdrops. Last February, when the flowers had faded but the leaves were still green, I salvaged forkfuls of snowdrops from under the hedge, and replanted over 50 small clumps all around the garden, closer to the house. with the wet year we have had, there shouldn’t be any risk of them having parched and dried out, so I am hopeful of a good return for my efforts. But I am getting ahead of myself. There will be time enough to plan for spring blooms in the months to come. Now, it is more important to listen and hear:

Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft,
The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft; 
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

September Could-Do List:

Buy wallflowers, in shades of burnt orange, or rosy purple-red, to fill planters. Some varieties will flower in both autumn and spring, others get their roots established now, and overwinter perfectly happily, blooming to accompany the tulips.

Keep celebrating fruits and vegetables in the kitchen. From apple pie to green tomato or marrow chutney, the earliest squashes and the last sweet corn cobs, September is a fabulous month for hungry chefs. In season highlights: runner beans, fennel, roots, aubergine, blackberries, hazelnuts, figs, pears, thyme, parsley, rabbit, venison, mackerel, mussels, sea bream.

Look to the skies - September is a great month for stargazing, as the evenings draw in a little darker and deeper. Jupiter, Saturn, and Neptune should all be putting in appearances in this months night skies, plus a partial eclipse of the full Harvest Moon, on 18th September. More details here (external link)

Revamp your wardrobe and support Second-hand September (external link) . Fancy a shopping spree? Shun fast-fashion and head instead to your nearest charity shops and scope out some bargains - good for the planet and great for your wallet! Look for natural fibers such as wool or brushed cotton, and sturdy boots, whilst greens, navy blues, oranges, browns, and burgundy - all suit an autumnal themed style!

Get outside! Whether it is beachcombing or kicking leaves in your local park, climbing a windy hill with a picnic, or cycling a canal towpath, cooler temperatures and beautiful natural sights make this a perfect time for some micro-adventures, or exploring you neighbourhood. Just remember: take your litter home, keep away from cliff edges, and follow signage to stay safe and respectful!