Mellow Fruitfulness

We are just twenty-four hours past Mabon, the autumn equinox, and the start of my favourite time of year. There is a glorious George Eliot quote: “Is not this a true autumn day? Just the still melancholy that I love - that makes life and nature harmonise. The birds are consulting about their migrations, the trees are putting on the hectic or the pallid hues of decay, and begin to strew the ground, that one's very footsteps may not disturb the repose of earth and air, while they give us a scent that is a perfect anodyne to the restless spirit. Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns."

I really cannot put it any better.

For some, I am the annoying person throwing open the windows and doors to exclaim “you can really smell autumn!”. The candle stockpile is being plundered for the first time since spring ended. Socks and jumpers have made a gleeful return to my wardrobe. I’m baking again! And properly cooking instead of just staring resentfully at the oven and telling people it’ll be quiche and salad again because I’m not turning the damn oven on in this damn heat.

The images above are from a gloriously sunny day in Morville last week. September had launched with epic, and much needed, amounts of rain but the sun reasserted herself in the sky for my monthly volunteering session. Just in time to see the dahlias at their peak. We were pruning rosemary to create space for new sage plants in what was formerly the box garden (box blight has meant it’s been replaced by herbs - much nicer in my opinion), and I came home smelling of herbs and fresh air.

And quinces! Would you credit, I have never seen a quince tree in full fruit? Well, now I have and they are glorious sights with their great fruits hanging like lanterns, the downy fuzz on each one feeling like velvet. There are four of them now ripening slowly in my kitchen, waiting for the moment when their perfume fills the air and I can make membrillo.

Back home, at the allotment, the courgettes are over but the squash is just getting started. Funny bright little patty pans and great solemn crown princes. The new raised beds (a birthday present) are home to cabbage, broccoli and purple sprouting broccoli, all thriving in the mix of cardboard, compost and straw. The beetroot are finally nearly ready after a slow start in the summer. Beans and tomatoes are over for the year too. The sweet peas are sending out a final, sweet smelling, hurrah.

There will be some new stock coming to the shop over the next few weeks. I love my dragons and have appreciated every order, but I felt it would be nice to have some smaller things that don’t take me months to make and you can buy outright. These will include postcards, stickers and curious bowls.

Curious Bowls is the name for my pottery creations. Inspired by old tree stumps you would find in ancient woodlands, full of mosses and fungi and the occasional crawling insent, I love these so much. I’ve also been making hilltop houses, funny little residences based on the top of hills, each one just large enough for a comfortable chair, a woodstove and a bookcase. Which, I think, is enough for a good life.

In other creative news, subscribers to the newsletter will already know this as they’ve had extracts to read, but my book is complete! At writers group last night, we celebrated a wee bit. Now, of course, comes the part I like the least: finding an agent. Oh, it feels like sending your paper child out into the world with nothing more to advocate for it than a letter, a one page synopsis and three chapters. How am I supposed to distill 485 pages into a synopsis no larger than a page of A4?! Yes, I did say 485 pages. I could also say 160,000 words. If it’s ever published, you will also be able to use it as a handy doorstop.

As I am writing this, the sun is coming up over the garden. The leaves on our acer, cherry and hornbeam are all taking on different notes in their colour as the trees prepare to change, to rest after their long spring and summer of work. Today, I shall be making spiced apple muffins, pecans and brown sugar giving them a pleasing crunch. There is a bag of ripe damsons waiting to become winter gin. And I shall walk along the canal, savouring the sight of the hawthorn berries, along to the allotment, to see what is good to harvest today.

I wish you all a most fruitful, most glorious autumn.