The winds have changed and autumn has well and truly banished the late summer sun. I have distant memories already of the searing hot days of July, the continuous dry spells, the daily watering of the garden, shorts and t-shirt weather, long swigs of the water bottle as the trickles of sweat dampened my hair, and the buzz of insects humming around me whilst I worked. I am geared up now, in waterproofs, a fleece and wellies in the early mornings and I mentally take note to root out my warm gloves and scarf. I adore this weather. When the garden gleams with beads of cold dew, the sound of steady rain drips from the tree canopies, the robins begin their flirtatious advances to me as I dig around in the soil, in hope of a fat worm or two. This morning marked the end of a season for me, as I caught the scent of the 17 tons of manure that had just been dumped in a majestic heap behind my shed. I rubbed my hands together in glee. It's one of my favourite autumn /winter jobs in the garden. That dark contrast of colour circulating the trees and beds and borders fill me with joy.
I have help in the garden! Tom spends three days a week with me learning the ropes. We talk about the plants, discuss changes in the garden that we would like to make, point out enthusiastically a late bloom, the sudden appearance of autumn sunlight through the trees, a ladybird, the rescue of a baby toad from the bonfire pile, a new seedling that pops up in the polytunnel and ferns. We have started to forage for baby ferns that have emerged in unsuspecting places - which we save for transplanting in the proposed fernery that we are excited to get started on.
We are still harvesting late vegetables in the garden. The last of the runner beans, the lingering courgettes and squashes, the remaining cabbages, tomatoes and chard. Kale and leeks and Brussel sprouts take pride now in the garden. Apples and pears are sweet and juicy and picked daily for our bottles of apple juice and condiments that stand to attention in the shop. The rosehip harvest continues in earnest before the hard frost descends. They are transformed into the best -selling bottles of rosehip hot sauce and Sophia’s healing skin care concoctions. Everything is used, from the nasturtium flowers for garnishing, to the copious amounts of lavender heads that are cut back and stripped and used in the kitchen and in bartender Ollie Jones’ cocktails.
This month we shall be sowing the garlic, onion sets and winter lettuces. The polytunnels and glass house need cleaning and disinfecting, the pots all need a good wash, the sheds need sorting and sweeping out and, on rainy days, the tools can be sharpened up and cleaned, the mowers serviced and joy-of-a-good bonfire lit and relished and cooked over for lunch and a morning pot of coffee. October is a grand month. A month for celebrating the end of season harvests, for hot puddings and stews and pies, for warming cocktails, and easy chatter and blankets on knees and shoulders, for cooking over the fire (see our Orchard Fire November Days), for foraging, and whisky with family and friends.
Here’s to October! We’re celebrating the harvest, life in the kitchen garden, and tucking into some scrumptious dishes at PKG. Bottoms Up!
Annie