Autumn comes to The Granary

One of the first of many things Andrew and I discovered we had in common was that we’re “shoulder-season people”.

Yes, give us a snow day in winter or a crisp, cold glass of wine on an Italian piazza in summer. But really, it’s the changing of the guard in spring and autumn that we love most.

And this autumn, after a relentless summer of heat and drought in which both we and the gardens took a bit of a beating, it feels particularly good to welcome the new season to The Granary and our old farmhouse next door.

A change in mood

Towards the end of August, we looked at each other and wondered whether we could really continue gardening three acres like this.

The grass had burned brown. Plants throughout the borders were crisp and dying. I was spending hours lugging watering cans around the garden, trying to keep alive the things that needed it most.

And then the rain came.

Not enough to undo the summer, but enough to breathe life, and colour, back into the garden. The days are still surprisingly warm and sunny, but the light has softened. Leaves are slowly beginning to turn red and gold.

In the mornings, we watch the sun rise over the front gardens; in the evening, it disappears spectacularly behind the field at the back. And as the nights begin to draw in, we light the candles a little earlier, pour a glass of something red and pop on our jazz.

It feels as though the garden, and we, can breathe again.

The garden is still giving

Usually by September, let alone October, the tomatoes and basil are finished. The courgette plants have been pulled up for compost and we’ve planted leeks and onions in their place.

Not this year.

We’re still picking tomatoes every day, turning them into soup or putting them away for later. We’ve harvested the last of the sweetest corn, alongside potatoes and beetroot, and we're watching the squashes ripen.

The flowers are having one last moment too. The late rain revived the dahlias and cosmos, and once again we’re cutting armfuls to fill vases in the farmhouse and leave fresh flowers for guests arriving at The Granary. It's one of my favourite rituals to complete ahead of the arrival of our guests.

Looking ahead

October is always when we begin to take stock. As we slowly put the garden to bed, we think about what worked, what didn’t, and what we might do differently next year.

This year has certainly given us plenty to think about.

We need more water storage. Three acres, an old farm and surprisingly few outdoor taps isn't an ideal combination in a drought even before a hosepipe ban. So that's firmly on the list for next year.

We’ve also been making notes on what survived, what thrived and what simply gave up. The stars have been the roses, gaura, perovskia, nepeta and Mediterranean herbs such as sage and rosemary. All things we'll be planting more of.

For now, though, there are still tomatoes to pick, dahlias to cut and squashes to watch. The evenings are getting darker, the candles are finally lit, and autumn has properly arrived at The Granary.

One of the loveliest times to stay here, even if we do say so ourselves.

Written at The Granary.