>We’ve had a glorious summer in Denmark, but the rain that has so far been pouring down every day in August (not all day every day, but some every day) has led me to finally give up my dreams of a golden late summer. We’re heading for autumn here, and all I can do is hope that it will be a beautiful autumn.
After all, there might not be much to do in the garden in autumn (except cutting back, pruning and so on), but the summer house is right next to a large forest, so I am looking forward to the autumnal colours that have already shown themselves in tiny glimpses. The oak in the garden is beginning to turn ever so slightly, and the young beeches have a distinctly golden hue to their leaves that they didn’t use to have.
My boyfriend – soon-to-be husband – is flying back for our wedding, so he will arrive on Friday and leave again the Sunday 16 days later. He loves the garden, but has this crazy idea that things will grow lush and flowery if left to their own devices, so the pruning and cutting-back will have to wait until he has left the country. I suspect he won’t much appreciate the sight of a rose or a honeysuckle cut down to the bare minimum. As he won’t be back in Denmark before Christmas, I plan to do a stealthy cut-back that he might never even notice…
Ah, I’m forgetting one important thing: seed collecting! I’ve gathered a bag of random wild meadow flower seeds to sow in spring, and I’ve also been poaching (with permission) from a few gardens in the neighbourhood. Some, like the lupins and columbines, have been sown already to be able to flower next year, though the majority were sown directly in the garden and are consequently likely to have drowned entirely, whereas others are being stored in the workshop for sowing in spring. (And I’m still waiting for the pods of the sweet peas to turn dry so they can be harvested as well.)
I love summer, but now that it’s drawing to a wet close I am beginning to regain my love of autumn. All is as it should be; seasons change, weather changes, life – and gardens – endure.