This week brought our first frost; the early morning skies were brilliantly clear, the palest glacier blue cross-hatched with dozens of feathering aeroplane trails, suffused with gold and apricot as the sun began to climb.
Pools of mist shivered in the valleys, tendrils spilling tentatively beneath the clear skies, as though all the clouds had plummeted to earth overnight.
A layer of ice spanned the car windows, requiring a flurry of scraping; no time for photographs, alas, but I drank in the colours as the world emerged from its icy sleep. Surprisingly the garden emerged unscathed from this cold start, a warning shot across its bows, that left those late blooms and plump green stems intact this time.
November brings us a bounty of golden sunrises, as well as the dull damp days where the sun remains elusive and the day just fades up with no fanfare.
Fighting the falling temperatures admirably in the greenhouse, the first of the lamentably late-sown chillis has turned from green to orange.
I must sow next year’s chillis in January; another bullet point on my mental list.
Outside, our our fledgling hedge (hedgling?) of beech is a weave of green, gold and burnished bronze as the foliage turns. The leaves on the dogwoods have begun to caramelise too; the stems that they will leave behind when they fall are already looking bright beneath this autumn coat, a promise of colour to come.
One of the Verbascum chaixi ‘Album’ has pushed up a new flowering stem; despite its comparatively diminutive stature it stands out beside the now dark brown candelabra that stand to attention alongside, remnants from summer’s show. In this picture, you can also see the moss that has crept in between the paving stones of the path behind; removing this will be a job for crisp cold winter days to come.
The moon is rising early this week, before the sun’s light has left the sky. Behind the almost bare stems of the birch tree, it makes a wintry sight.
I take pleasure in what I see of these clear dry days; almost enough to make up for the dreary drizzling ones without number.