The falling leaves drift by my window
The falling leaves of red and gold
I see your lips, the summer kisses
The sunburned hands I used to hold...
So sung the great Nat King Cole. Now, there was a man with a richness in voice that was simply made for this time of year, his gentle croon matching the softening tones of colour and light as the garden enters this most reflective of seasons. As we approach Halloween, our garden is in a sultry frame of mind, the dying embers of summer now extinguished as it steels itself for the cold months to come. Leaves are the current fashion here, with birch leaves falling to the ground in immeasurable numbers. The leaves of the blueberry bushes, meanwhile, are still intact, forming the stunning curtain of pinks and reds, for which these plants are famous.
The colours of Autumn are my favourite of the whole calendar. It's easy, in a summer month, to take each flower or fiery tone for granted, but on a cold and grey October day, where the sun doesn't show her head and the clouds loom with menace, a single flash of colour is to be received with the same fervour as Howard Carter, when he first stumbled upon that famous tomb. The best treasure in the last week has been this red admiral butterfly, a late-flyer that I've spotted much more readily this Autumn. Other remnants of the warmer months are also trying their best to hang on - such as a (very) late flowering pink campion, the final flush of red geraniums, and the true queen of the garden at this time of year, fading with regal dignity, our hydrangea.
To me, nothing in the garden screams Autumn like fungi, and whilst I don't know my mushroom from my toadstool, I'm certainly impressed with these beastly organisms that have found a home - as if by magic - on the woodland bank. I notice that fungus doesn't tend to stay around too long, and no sooner has it appeared, then it is peppered with holes and knocked about by the elements. Nonetheless, there's a fascination about it that leaves me intrigued and slightly flummoxed, and like with all things woodland and wild, it is welcome to have a home here.
Around a year ago, I blogged about some garden centre bargains that I picked up in a clearance sale. Happily I can report that almost everything has thrived (the less said about dahlias and slugs, the better.) This year I've done a spot more bargain hunting - a winter flowering jasmine for £3; some brunnera plants for £1 each; and a few ferns and primulas that should really kick on next year. Naturally, my attention has now turned back to our winter border, where I've popped in a few bergenias and dug in a number of winter aconite bulbs. It's an ongoing project to try and work out what works where in this slightly difficult part of the garden, but with the addition of a couple of hellebores, a few evergreen ferns, and the ever-emerging cyclamens, I'm hopeful of a winter show that encapsulates the season and gives some colour and interest to make our garden a place to enjoy, whatever the month.
Monty Don mentioned in the most recent Gardeners' World magazine that his relationship with his garden will be taking a short hiatus, a little time apart to recharge and become excited again. Possibly it's because I don't have acres to tend, but I don't share Monty's emotions about our own plot at this time. Right now the garden is moody, and both of us know it isn't at its best. However, its character still excites me, and as we push into the ever-damper, colder days of darkness, there's an increased intimacy that I want to find, uncover, and enjoy, far away from the prying eyes of summer. For the next few months, its just the two of us facing whatever winter wants to throw our way - and we need each other now, possibly more than in any other season.
Was it really back in sunny August that we stepped out on safari and followed the rhino trail around South Devon? Well, believe it or not, the trail has ended already, with a crescendo of art, colour and horns adorning Paignton Zoo for one weekend only. Here was a chance to see all our friends together again, and to catch up on some of the more outlandishly-located creatures that we missed the first time around. Before that, however, here's a round-up of some of the rhinos we found since my last blog post.
Big Sweetie, an ingenious piece of art that incorporates everything sweet shop. Foam shrimps, gummy bears, twister lollies, it's a trip down memory lane for the sugar fiend, and one of the funniest rhinos on the trail. I particularly like the "for keeps" love heart, once again bringing the conservation message home; afterall, nobody wants to lose the Javan and Sumatran rhinos. Meanwhile, in Torquay town centre, Rhino an old lady who swallowed a fly (get it?) takes us through that particularly quirky nursery rhyme, with a granny rhino displaying each stage of the story, from the spider, the bird, the cat, the dog, the cow, the horse... She's dead of course! Rhino an old lady comes complete with her own horn fly too, a little touch that perfectly completes the piece.
On Paignton Sea Front, Rhinoctopus stole the show in my eyes, a lovely seabed scene in which a large pink octopus takes centre stage. Incorporating coral and clownfish, it's a tropical nod to biodiversity that really appealed to my fishy tastes. Paignton has also been the home of Oh I Do Like To Be Beside the Seaside, a take on the traditional British beach holiday, complete with sand castles, ice creams, and good old Punch & Judy. It sort of fits perfectly in the faded glory of Paignton's Torbay Road, a throw-back to the days when this really was a destination of distinction, but celebrating the still-beautiful stretch of coastline that makes up this wonderful bay.
To Paignton Zoo, where the great gathering of rhinos was in full swing, all lined up neatly like a conservation army. Here we had a chance to sweep up some of those we missed, such as Stella, which showcases endangered animals in the stars, and Rhino Why the Caged Bird Sings, which just has an intrinsic beauty that I'm not sure I even understand. The impact of having so many rhinos in one place is a sight not-to-be-missed, giving - for the first time - a real understanding of the scale of the project. I mean, what an effort by Paignton Zoo, once again giving the people of South Devon a world-class art trail for all ages. Through the mindless moments of vandalism and antisocial behaviour of a tiny minority, the project has shone through to give a summer of pleasure to thousands of locals and tourists alike - we two included. Thanks to the zoo for this, and for their conservation work generally. You can see a gallery of all rhinos on my Flickr page.
Finally, to my favourite. Or favourites, as there's two that stand out for me. the first, Blossom, we snapped at Bernaville Nurseries near Exeter. It appeals to the gardener within me, and would surly look perfect up by our summer house. The second, which would also not look out of place in our back garden, is Woodland Safari, a celebration of native nature, and a reminder that you don't need to travel far to enjoy a safari of your own, to find fascination in the British countryside, and do your bit to help our embattled wildlife no matter where you live. I guess that's the message that this project has spent a summer trying to get across - it certainly wasn't wasted. So bye bye rhinos; and let's hope it's only the sculptures to which we bid farewell.
