That is exactly how it should be. Spot on. Today was a dictionary entry for autumn. The essence. Like in fairy tales and East Anglia. New England-esque, but lacking the pretty leaves. Dry and sunny, the low light warming our souls. Forgive me for pressing the point, but after last week’s persistent misery it was twice as welcome. In fact I wouldn’t complain if every day was like it. Don’t you think about changing a thing! Maybe a few degrees warmer once in a while, just for a change. But mainly the same.
You may remember that last week it was half term in this neck of the woods. The Farm was full of the wellied and the excitable. This week, all was calm and controlled. Most of my day was spent rescuing the delicate and taking them to their winter snoozing ground, the greenhouse. Here I potted them up, labelled them as accurately as I could (“Dahlia from outside the office, not the orange one” “blue” “hanging basket plant”) and lined them up in an orderly manner. Then I planted out cyclamen. All was well.
A very special ten minutes of my day was spent watching a goldcrest flit about the old apple trees. I followed as it darted from branch to branch, tree to tree, at times no more than 3m away. It was mesmerising. This country’s smallest bird, giving this gardener the biggest thrill.