and other things I have discovered
The garden is bleak. Leaves rot on slimy paths, sunflower skeletons collapse against broken garden chairs, abandoned balls wait for dogs that don’t visit and snivelling chickens hang around the back door, hoping for company. Above all this the Pampas Plumes soar towards the sky. ‘Look at us’ they say. ‘See how we glow in the sun. Autumn is wonderful’.
The holly tree is groaning with berries and we’re all groaning about Christmas. There are three things to worry about.
The Winter Clematis is out. It’s time to launch into a frenzy of preparation for the pumpkin competition. Hopefully the other entrants are all small children so I am in with a chance.
A lonely pumpkin lurks amongst cauliflowers. It is hard growing cauliflowers and getting any sense out of them. You get flowers but no caulis. This Pumpkin is the main player. It will be carved, illuminated and sent out to ensure that every evil spirit of bad luck unpleasantness will take one look and go ‘OH NO it’s a pumpkin with a candle in it, I will go and dump bad luck on somebody else, can’t possibly enter that place’. Here comes Halloween.
Found these in a hedge. They might be called ‘Chicken of the Woods’. If that’s true they are edible. Or they could be ‘Aggressive Honeyfungus’ less edible for some of us. If you are hungry and come across something like this, don’t eat them all at once, just try one or two for starters and see how it goes.
When the world looks troubled, go find a Virginia Creeper, a slow firework to calm the mind. Over summer, while apple trees were fainting in the heat, the creeper was busy, going all out to engulf the greenhouse, vegetables and whatever else it could get its leaves on. Now it is queen of the month.
If you are an insect the main flower right now is ivy. Pale green and packed with nectar, providing a late supper for everybody getting ready to hibernate.
The hedgerows are groaning with hazel nuts. A chance to wear your fingers to the bone picking nuts to make stodgy nut roasts. Or maybe roast something else and leave them for the dormice? Hazelnuts are their favourite food.
The Grapevine has been picking fights all summer. Throttling nearby plants, doubling in size overnight and chucking sour grapes all over the place.
Nice berries. No idea what name. They might symbolise hope, joy, terror, tennis or security. It all depends on Google.
This is an Honesty plant, with its paper thin seed pods glowing in the sunshine. Also known as ‘Silver Dollar’ it’s a symbol of sincerity and prosperity.
The Fuchsia bush is heavy with flowers.
Famous as an antiseptic, a symbol of love and devotion and guaranteed to cause relaxation. Today the bushes hum with the noise of bee traffic. Every local hive has sent an army to scoop up the nectar while it’s there.
All of a sudden those early summer elder flowers are berries, groaning with antioxidants. I should make syrup, but flocks of greedy starlings get there first. What is an antioxidant anyway? Google says it is an invisible thing that cures everything and comes free in red wine and berries. Berries are free if you get them off hedges or quite pricey if you prefer blue ones imported from America.
August arrives and the sunflowers come marching in. Seedlings become giants overnight, apparently having a competition to see who can grow fastest before bursting into flower. Thousands of sunflower seeds will come next. Maybe I could dry them for chicken food?
Sweet Peas are easy to grow and fill the air with scent. We have a new flower to distribute around the house, in case visitors come and don’t like our smell. Except we don’t have visitors any more. I picked them anyway, filled the house with heavy stinking bunches and immediately triggered an asthma attack. I do this every year. It generally takes 45 minutes to remember they cause potentially deadly wheezing.
Rain at last. A whole day of fat, noisy rain. Bouncing off hard soil and soaking dusty leaves until they sparkle. Almost as exciting as snow. I took photos of raindrops on grateful plants and and felt poetic. ‘Diamond drops on leaves’, and maybe ‘no longer will I sneeze’ sounded good.
This Mallow weed is usually pulled up for the offence of ‘covering the path’. This year I let it stay and now it’s a flowering bush. The chickens love lurking in it, sniffing out ants or something.
Here come the bottlebrush flowers. This Australian bush is a symbol of laughter and joy. There is not much of that from the Australians I know. They should be here by now. Laughter and joy it was, when the garden was full of friends and family from far flung places.
Suddenly there are ripe raspberries in random places. A chance to stock the freezer and feel smug about ‘Living off the Land’. In other departments self-sufficiency is not on track.
