This autumn is flying past; amid the frenzy of feeding, nappies and snatched sleep we catch glimpses of the garden in its seasonal splendour.
Please excuse the pictures, which are hurried snapshots taken with my phone.
Our three small Euonymus alata have been resplendent in scarlet; the last clinging leaves still pack a fiery impact amidst the tawny tangle of branches around them. They should look magnificent in the years to come, as they grow.
The snowball bush, Viburnum opulus ‘Roseum’, is displaying a lovely palette of colours. So too the dogwoods, ‘Midwinter Fire’, which are still holding onto their now golden leaves, and an unknown variegated plant grown from a cutting, whose foliage has fallen to leave striking dark red stems.
Acers are always among the strongest performers at this time of year; the flaming crimson leaves of our Acer palmatum dissectum ‘Garnet’ are long gone now, but the butterfly acer is still vividly aflame at the front of the border.
Here and in the kitchen border, the self-sown seedlings of the annual grass Briza maxima are a vivid green mass, that make it seem as though the lawn is reclaiming the border although they are a brighter green than this – I must thin these out before spring, assuming they aren’t wiped out by a harsh winter: this year the self-sown plants rather swamped the borders.
I love the sunny optimism of this rose in the front garden, whose flowers cluster on top of a long wayward vertical stem. Such a tall stem should be cut down really before the wild winter winds tear the plant apart. I can’t bear to touch it while it is in full flower though!
Our beautiful bright-eyed boy loves to be held by the kitchen window where he can watch the leaves and branches dancing against the sky outside; I can’t wait to watch him begin to explore his garden kingdom in the months ahead. In the meantime, a bag of tulip bulbs is still languishing by the kitchen doors; planting them is not something I can easily accomplish with a small boy in my arms, or even worn in a sling across my chest … perhaps I can snatch ten minutes from King of the Hill at the weekend to hop out and plunge them into a pot at least! The gardening magazines are stacking up unread too. One of these days …