The low November light

One isn’t supposed to have favourites. But I do think autumn is my preferred season.

I am usually way too busy in spring and summer to admire the garden. But at this time of year, most of the real toil is over and you actually have time to stop and gaze.

Or curse the dying of the light and realise you can’t start a new job at 4pm in the afternoon.

I tend to take a lot of afternoon shots.

And growing miscanthus grasses is such a pleasure when you get the low autumn light shining on their flowers.

Flowers? I think they are called spikelets. But I never use that word as I have an immediate association with pikelets.

And boy could I do with Grandy making a batch of pikelets right now. Australian crumpets if you please. Probably invented by a New Zealander, but they are simple and delicious little hot fat pancakes and taste divine with honey.   I suspect we drowned them in golden syrup.

Instead I can nip inside for a cup of tea and a sorry pikelet substitute, a few shortbread biscuits.

I decided that even though it was 4pm and I would lose the light, I was determined to go down to the vineyard (sorry, former vineyard) and have a look.

I wanted to see what jobs needed doing before we get the rotovator down here. And I’m glad I came. Not only because I have found a huge number of things that need sorting. But also because I have never seen a medlar in autumn before.

Isn’t it glorious? It looks like it’s on fire.  And the fruit still hasn’t rotted (bletted) so I can’t take a tenative taste. But I know I won’t fall in love with them. Too mealy.

It really is in the way when you stagger down the vineyard steps.  But it’s going to have to stay now. Even if it only does its stuff for a few weeks each year. I’ll just raise the canopy a bit and try and stop the brambles from scrambling up through the trunk.