September harvest

It's suddenly September, and that can only mean one thing in our household - blackberry picking.  Wandering the lanes hunting for blackberries is something of a tradition for us, and is always accompanied by that certain earthy feeling that the year is growing old, that summer is on the wane, and that autumn is being heralded in with each and every berry that hits the pot.  The plump, ripened berries are numerous in the hedgerows this year, so we picked just enough for Lizzie to make one of her trademark crumbles - just add the apples from our garden, and nothing could taste better.

Lizzie picking blackberries in the September sunshine

Back onsite, autumn is slowly taking its hold and the garden is slowly maturing into Keats' season of mists and mellow fruitfulness.  All but the hardiest of grasshoppers have ceased their chirping, the birdsong is low, and all around the wildlife is either reaching the conclusion of its lifecycle, or else preparing to overwinter.  Autumn colour has arrived in the form of the Michaelmas daisy and other aster varieties, plants which have grown ceaselessly throughout the spring and summer months, picking their flowering time perfectly to extend the gardening season another few weeks, and of course providing essential nectar to the bees in this relatively sparse time.

The Michaelmas daisy

A bee on the aster Anneke

A late grasshopper

Elsewhere, and following on from Monty Don's recommendations of Gardeners' World, we've invested in numerous cyclamens to bring some winter colour to our shady areas.  Word on the internet is that a good cyclamen will flower right through winter and into the following spring, and whilst I won't quite be expecting that, it's another source of nectar for late-flying bees, and will add some much appreciated winter colour at a time when the rest of the garden is tucking down.

Cyclamens adding winter colour in the garden shade

It's amazing to think that only a few weeks ago, I was bemoaning my tomato crop and exclaiming that this is the last time I will ever grow tomatoes.  The stumpy little plants, puny green fruits and lack of sunshine had somewhat dashed my spirits until, out of nowhere, came great trusses of plump scarlet fruits.  Suddenly I am picking tomatoes daily, and have probably sixty or seventy fruits still ripening on the vine.  It has made me rethink my rethink (maybe I will grow them next year after all...)  Similarly, after a shaky start back in late spring, my cucumbers have been a magnificent performer (the variety, Marketmore, is one to remember) and there is a real delight to stepping outside with a knife, and returning to the kitchen with a handful of crisp, fresh salad.

Tomatoes ripening on the vine

Successful cucumbers

Back in the kitchen, the autumn night drawing in with a slight chill, Lizzie tends to her famous blackberry and apple crumble, into which I've thrown some raspberries from my autumn-fruiting canes.  It's the greatest possible celebration of this time of year - a time of year that always moves me, a time for reflection on the summer past, but also an opportunity to look forwards to another phase in the never-ending cycle of gardening.

Delicious autumn crumble

A plateful of harvest