As if by magic we find ourselves in autumn again and preparing for the inevitable changes that come to challenge our seasonal preferences. Some feel the loss of a memory-filled summer deeply, disliking the inevitable tumble towards chilly days and long dark nights, whilst some, me included, don’t begrudge the tumbledown season at all, in fact quite the opposite.
I feel the natural landscape craves the autumnal change like dry oars need water, or thirsty bees need nectar. Indeed if plants could talk, I’d imagine them right now whispering wearily of how they’re needing this slower more restful time, after their long and somewhat arduous season of growth. This year alone they’ll invariably have seen off extreme temperatures, drought, flooding and attacks from predators, so surely they’re due for some rest and recuperation. In many ways I’m attuned to their situation, feeling mindfully at one with gardens and the great outdoors, although despite ambition, I doubt if paid ‘hibernation leave’ will ever come to be.
Spring and summer seasons for me, as for many folk in the horticultural world will often have been long and challenging after negotiating the fastest growth periods, new season or ongoing projects, and numerous progress checking delays – holidays included. Last year for example in 2022, drought impacted so many places and
whilst mowing all but ceased, irrigation flowed to the top of the agenda – which plants to keep alive became the discussion in many gardens. This year in comparison, the rains have fallen in most areas and drought, apart from a particularly hot spring period, has been replaced by conditions that have pushed growth to the extreme. If your job is largely one of mowing, you’ll have earned your pennies this year that’s for sure.
To one extreme or another, gardens and gardening through these two seasons can therefore be challenging. On the flip side however, there will have been goodness and reward from gardening endeavours across many clement days. Good growth will have happened and projects might have progressed, new plants will have established and hopefully, we’ll have made learning discoveries. My own expectations on spring and summer are that they fill my memory bank to the brim with hundreds of special moments, from caressing sweet smelling flowers and sowing seeds, to harvesting some of my own food and to sitting reflectively on my bench whilst watching swifts dance in the skies above.
During the slope towards the end of the summer season though – that guaranteed fall towards autumn, the mood does change gradually alongside the evening temperatures. It isn’t as though garden based work gets lighter or easier, it just changes direction, but holds just as much opportunity for progress, discovery and delight. My own mind is good at letting go of any pain derived from the previous season’s challenges, and certainly won’t dwell on having survived summer or hold fear of what is yet to come, instead I positively look forward to the joys the new season will bring.
Autumn joy for me is darker star-filled evenings and fresher misty mornings. Autumn is days of unusually subdued light, dew sodden grass and hedges topped with crispy frosted leaves. Autumn is a time for gathering material to make compost, a time for taking stock, and a time for sowing next year’s ideal garden. I will enjoy watching grasses and perennials fade with tall stems turning brown from green, and I’ll grasp the chance to harvest seeds and clear away spent summer flowers. In short, I shall very much be part of, and shall weave my way through the autumn season.
For sure, I shall miss the barefoot strolls into the garden across sun-warmed ground and I know I’ll shiver from the chills heading our way. Yet in its own changeable way, autumn will bring me hundreds of new special moments, each a memory that will will again carry me forward. For me then, I do not feel the loss of summer for I have its memories locked away in the bank, and I don’t begrudge autumn’s arrival. Indeed, I warmly welcome autumn’s leaf lighting sunshine, its moonlit trees, its harvest and fruitfulness, and I look forward to lots of mellow reflection and productivity. Maybe autumn is my favourite of all.
Gardening Ways 