Month: November 2023

Painting rainbows

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My sincere apologies for publishing a blog post hot on the heels of the last one, it wasn’t my intention. I wanted to write something about Black Friday and had a few ideas jiggling about in my head but I thought it was next Friday, not today! Just shows how much notice I take of these things . . . which is the point of the post, really.

It will come as no surprise to regular readers to hear that Black Friday is not my cup of tea, quite the opposite, in fact. It never fails to amaze me how it became such an event and I think the predictable footage of people rushing about like headless chickens grabbing so-called bargains off shelves is a terrible and achingly sad indictment of modern society. Those visible shoppers are, of course, only the tip of the iceberg: a few clicks of a mouse or taps on a screen will see millions of parcels winging their way into homes in the coming days in a mass outbreak of consumerism and instant gratification. It is the antithesis of my way of life so I deal with it by simply ignoring it; I appreciate that might seem a bit hypocritical given I’ve chosen to write a blog post about it, but I hope you’ll get my meaning. However, I’m not going to criticise, rant, rail, moan or preach but rather apply a bit more ‘abundance thinking’ in suggesting a few positive ways of greeting the day. I’ve never been a fan of black, I am an unapologetic lover of colour so let’s paint some rainbows . . .

Ignore it. Pay no attention to adverts wherever they pop up; it’s simple enough to apply adblockers to devices, switch the television off or walk away when ads appear (or, in our case, don’t even have a television, it is the most liberating thing ever), turn away from posters, promotions and the like in shops. We don’t need to be sucked in by the power and persuasion of the marketing industry. We can say no.

Reject it. I don’t have a lot of newsletters and notifications coming into my inbox but anything that has appeared in the last couple of weeks offering Black Friday bargains has been immediately deleted. I’m very disappointed in some organisations (who should know better than jumping on the bandwagon) to the point that I’ve unsubscribed to their news. Sorry, but I’m not playing the game.

Think need not greed. This is so simple. Do I need to buy anything new? No. Does anyone I know need me to buy something new for them? No again. End of story. My ancient hairdryer finally gave up the ghost last week; it was manufactured for planned obsolescence, of course, but being married to an engineer with the tools to bypass weird screws and fix or rebuild a piece of electronic equipment has lengthened its life considerably. This time, however, it’s beyond repair so is heading to an appropriate recycling point and I’ve decided not to replace it because when I really got down to it, I don’t need another one. My hair is very thick and takes several hours to dry naturally which can be a problem, especially if I have to go out somewhere or to bed. Well, permies like to say the problem is the solution so I tied my long locks back into a pony tail and chopped the lot off into a short bob. That’ll fix it!

Try an attitude of gratitude. There is much research and reporting at the moment about how expressing gratitude is one of the most positive things we can do in our lives in terms of promoting well-being for ourselves, others and the world in general. ‘Thank you’ is such an easy thing to say and when we really start to think about all that we have, all the blessings in our life whether material or otherwise, it shifts our focus away from the wants and constant striving for more. It’s not always an easy thing to do, especially when we are suffering in some way, but it can still be a positive action even then. In the darkest days of my back pain last year, when gritted teeth, tears and frustration were something of a default mode, I found that thinking about all the good things in my life ~ a wonderful husband caring for me so lovingly, the wider circle of family and friends giving their support, a safe, comfortable home, good food, clean water, an excellent health service, the beauty of nature all around me ~ helped me greatly in coping with the situation. Pour a glass of water, brew a cuppa, take a bite out of an apple, look fondly at your hands, take a deep breath or do any other simple, familiar thing, then give thanks for such a wonderful gift.

Embrace pre-loved. Avoiding Black Friday and consumerism in general isn’t too difficult for me because I despise shopping and only ever do it when necessary. Fashion, fast or otherwise, passes me by. I’m not into gadgets and gizmos, so I have no interest in buying them at all, yet alone hankering after the latest upgrades. Almost every piece of furniture and book in our house is secondhand. My shoe collection, that famous female shopping weak spot, runs to one pair each of wellies, walking boots, winter boots and sandals. When I buy anything these days (apart from underwear) it is secondhand, those pre-loved bits and pieces that I am happy to give a new home to in the name of supporting a circular economy. For ‘Rainbow Friday’, I will be wearing a pair of cotton chinos and a colourful pure wool jumper, bought from the charity shop for the princely sum of four euros for both and looking like they have hardly, if ever, been worn. Let’s be brave, individual, unique, creative, quirky, eccentric, outrageous (you choose, it’s your joy!) and develop our own sartorial style without buying into the dictates of the fast fashion industry. There’s so much fun to be had.

Enjoy the gift of giving. What difference would it make today if instead of getting, folks concentrated on giving? There are so many ways in which we can channel our surplus to help others, whether it’s donating money to charities and good causes, giving pre-loved bits and bobs for resale, giving our time and energy as volunteers or simply reaching out with anything we can offer. Time, help, knowledge, skills, support, listening, empathy, stories, songs . . . we all have so much we can give, things that cost nothing but which are in their own ways priceless.

Do something creative. Human beings are incredibly imaginative and creative, two talents that are woefully wasted when the focus is on buying stuff. Why not try to do just one simple creative thing today? It doesn’t mean you need lots of arty, crafty materials, either (although if you have them and feel inspired, dive in) as you can be creative in the simplest of ways wherever you happen to be: take a piece of scrap paper and try folding it into something interesting, write your name then embellish the letters, mess about with paperclips, pegs, pebbles . . . Try experimenting with different fillings or construction techniques for your lunchtime sandwich or cut it into crazy shapes. Your imagination is the limit and whatever you make, it’s more rewarding than shopping. Honestly.

Go wild. The benefits of spending time outdoors and connecting with the natural world have become so mainstream now that doctors in the UK are prescribing such time in nature as a treatment for various ailments. It’s nothing new, of course, since in other ages and cultures, the importance of our connection with the natural world has been a fundamental and integral part of society but I’m thrilled to see the movement growing and reaching out to more and more people. Forestry England has created eighteen wellbeing trails with the express purpose of encouraging people to find healing, inspiration and wonder as they wander through the woods and there are similar schemes elsewhere, including in urban areas where ‘nature’ might not be so immediately obvious. You don’t have to go out and hug a tree today but it’s perfectly OK if that’s what you fancy doing; even the simplest of connections ~ picking up a leaf or feather, turning over a stone, looking deep into a pine cone, stroking a houseplant (or maybe just talking to it if it’s a seriously spiky cactus), splashing in a puddle, staring at the sky ~ can bring powerful feelings of calm, peace, contentment and happiness.

Connect with others. The web of relationships we have with others is more precious than anything we can buy. Modern technology has led to fast and furious communication but how about making one slower, more meaningful contact with someone today? A phone or video call where we promise to listen more than we talk, an exchange of chatty emails, a good old-fashioned hand-written card or letter sent by snail mail? A smile and greeting to a stranger, a brief friendly exchange we wouldn’t normally make the effort to do? Talking about the weather is an old British chestnut, but it’s better than shunning someone; such little gestures, those random acts of kindness and connection, have the power to make days and move mountains.

Learn something new. Something important I’m learning from my SaySomethingin Welsh course apart from the language itself, is the incredible capacity of the human brain to learn new things; the course approach is based on fascinating scientific research which is shared with learners and helps to dispel many myths about learning, although I appreciate that being told to make mistakes, drop perfection and welcome frustration pushes a lot of people out of their comfort zone. It banishes they idea of ‘I can’t’ and replaces it with something far more positive, so that stating that I can’t draw is turned round to an acknowledgement that with the right support, encouragement, tools, time and application, I could learn to draw. Every new thing we learn creates a new neural pathway which in turn helps to keep our brain active and mental faculties sharp; if time spent surfing the internet for bargain buys was redirected into learning instead, just imagine what could be achieved! There’s no need for special or expensive resources either, since you could try learning to whistle, juggle, tie complicated knots or say ‘thank you’ in several new languages with the simplest of materials to hand. That said, one of the biggest consequences of excessive consumerism is the amount of ‘stuff’ left languishing in attics and garages, bought at the outset of a new hobby or project which ran out of steam very quickly. Perhaps today is the day to blow the dust off that guitar, home gym, paint brush, crochet hook, wood chisel or whatever and reignite the interest, excitement and anticipation that led to those things being bought in the first place?

Do something to make you or others smile. There is a plethora of reports and studies pointing to the fact that the pleasure gained from buying things is fleeting, lasting from a few hours to a few days at best. True happiness comes from many other diverse things and it is those we ought to be focusing on. We all have memories that make us smile whether because they are lovely, celebratory, life-affirming or just downright funny but simply thinking about them causes us to lift the corners of our mouth and release a wave of warmth and well-being. I’m not a film buff by any means but one of my favourite scenes ever comes from The Full Monty when the chaps break into a spontaneous dance routine in the dole queue; it never fails to make me smile and leads me to wonder how we could send out ripples of joy in our daily lives? Now obviously, I’m not suggesting that you start a Conga down the aisles of your local supermarket or an impromptu Macerena in the bus queue but actually, wouldn’t that be fun? When we collected Sam and Adrienne from the train station in Le Mans in September, I was really impressed to see a piano in the waiting area, with a note (no pun intended) on it inviting passengers to play. What creative thinking! So, go ahead: have a giggle, chuckle, titter, chortle, laugh or whatever floats your funny boat. It’s free, renewable and the very best of medicines.

If you are planning to focus on buying into all those bargains today, then please go ahead and enjoy it because nothing I say is going to make any difference. However, if you’re looking for a different path then consider the great abundance that is there for us, the wealth and riches that don’t come packaged or with a price tag. We are intelligent beings and we can choose how to behave; being social creatures doesn’t make us mindless herd animals, after all. We can grant ourselves permission to buck the trend if we want to, to free ourselves of the tyranny of consumerism even if others think we’re weird. (I quite like being weird, actually: the word originally meant ‘having the power to control destiny’ which I think is pretty appropriate seeing I’m trying to leave a beautiful planet for future generations). We don’t have to be slaves to fashion or fads, to line the pockets of big business or spend money on stuff just because of a meaningless date in the calendar. Whatever you choose to do, I wish you all a very lovely day full of colour and happiness . . . and if you do decide to instigate a group dance in public, please post a video! 😉

How are we doing?

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The photos without captions in this post were taken on a recent walk along an ancient trackway close to home.

We are currently without a car and part of me thinks it should feel more frustrating than it does, especially as it seems that possibly yet another fuel injector is on its way out. The bright side is that at least this time we were not on a German motorway heading for Norway and we can take it to the local garage to be fixed; the not so good news is that they don’t have time to repair it straight away so we have to wait several days during which we daren’t drive it. In a former life, this would have been the stuff of nightmares; we’ve always lived in very rural areas where public transport is virtually non-existent so the chance of getting to work without a car was practically totally zero. For example, when I was teaching in mid-Wales 20 miles from home, the local council carried out a horrendously expensive audit of all employees’ journeys to work in an attempt to suggest greener ways in which we could travel. The suggestion for me was as follows: walk two and a half miles down country roads to the nearest settlement (presumably carrying several sets of marked books, classroom resources and my lunch in a giant rucksack) and catch the post bus mid-morning to the market town 10 miles away; from there, take a service bus (eventually) to the village where I taught, arriving in school just 30 minutes before the end of the children’s day. Since this was obviously complete nonsense plus there was no return journey (add pyjamas to the rucksack?), the advice was to continue driving my car to work. The sensible solution would have been to offer me a job close to home but teacher recruitment doesn’t work that way. Now, in the short term at least, for us no car is no problem.

Shortly before we moved from Asturias to Mayenne in December 2020, I did an online course as an offshoot of my permaculture study, part of which involved listing all the ways I hoped to reduce my carbon footprint, live sustainably (although I prefer the word regeneratively) and walk more lightly on the Earth. By chance, I came across the notes I’d made at the time this week and thought it would be interesting to compare my vision to what has actually happened in the intervening time, especially given that top of the list was being less reliant on our car for journeys. How’s that for timing? Much as I loved living in Asturias ~ and there are still many things I miss about that beautiful place! ~ the list was written in a very optimistic frame of mind as to the new possibilities that would be open to us in Mayenne. I like this sort of ‘abundance thinking’ and try to adopt it whenever I can; it’s all too easy to focus on fears or uncertainty about the future or wallow in pessimism and doubt given so much gloom and doom in the media, but it’s astounding just what a bit of positive thinking can achieve. With that in mind, here’s the list . . .

  • Reduced travelling distance to see family; less reliance on car, use bikes for local journeys.
  • Wood-fired heating; use dead wood from own coppice.
  • Solar water heating March to October
  • Green energy supply; solar panels
  • Rainwater collection system
  • Bigger polytunnel to extend growing season
  • Regenerative approach to food production e.g no-dig, soil building, etc
  • Increased production, preserving and use of fruit and vegetables from garden
  • More perennial planting
  • Making compost
  • Herbal teas and remedies
  • Seed saving
  • Chickens and beehives
  • Foraging and wildcrafting
  • Minimal shopping and consumption
  • Food provenance ~ local producers
  • Promote biodiversity through habitat creation and planting choices
  • Reduce waste, especially packaging
  • Finding ways to share our surplus ~donate, barter, swap, etc.
  • Studying to gain greater insight and new ideas
  • Sharing my ideas, practices and experiences with others e.g. online chat group with daughters, email exchanges with like-minded people, writing blog.
  • Supporting green organisations, signing petitions, lobbying MPs, etc.
  • More co-operation and collaboration, greater involvement in local community

Looking through the list, I’m quietly delighted that we have managed to put so many of these ideas into practice over the last three years and it brings home that what we’ve lost from Asturias, we’ve gained in Mayenne. For instance, the climate is trickier here, being colder in winter and hotter and drier in summer, but gardening on flat land rather than a vertiginous mountainside has certainly made things physically easier.

A flat garden has its attractions.

I’m not going to work through the entire list with comments at that would make for supremely dull reading but instead I’ll take a more holistic approach in assessing how we are doing. We have gardened together since 1988 but looking back on our time in Asturias, I recognise that it was there we went through a fairly seismic shift in our approach, moving from an emphasis on organic to ecological gardening and applying ourselves to simplifying all areas of our lives. For me, permaculture has played a significant part in all this; it’s not the be all and end all and I certainly don’t see myself as a preaching permie but the ethics and principles have provided me with a comprehensive and inspiring framework to help turn visions and ideas into meaningful actions. Bringing a heady mix of experience, enthusiasm and ideas (some crazier than others) to northern France was a huge part of the adventure!

Borage continues to offer a food supply for the last few bees of the season. I love the two-tone thing these late season flowers are doing.

I’m pleased at how having started with what was basically a mown field, we now have large and plentiful planting areas of rich soil built from organic materials, the majority of which have come from on site, using a no-dig approach. In these areas we are growing a diverse and abundant harvest of foods by working closely with nature; as I’ve written before, it’s not always easy especially at times when crops seem threatened but I can’t begin to describe the overwhelming satisfaction and joy I feel every time I step into the garden. Lasagne beds, Hügel beds, mulches, compost, green manure, plant-based fertilisers, integrated pest management, self-seeding . . . all contributing to a wonderful profusion of colours, flavours, scents, textures and sounds, not to mention the freshest foods on our plate.

Autumn gold: piles of dead leaves waiting to be spread as a mulch.

In terms of energy, we’ve ticked some boxes but not others. We leave the coppice virtually untouched as a haven for wildlife but take dead wood to season as logs and this provides us with plentiful heating over winter as well as a source of energy for cooking and heating water for hot drinks, washing the dishes and cleaning. From early spring to late autumn, our water is heated by solar power and although the system is old and has needed patching up a few times, it works very well. We’ve looked at installing solar panels for electricity but the cost is prohibitive and as we are exceptionally low consumers anyway, we have stuck to buying from a 100% green provider; like compost versus flush toilets, there are situations where we have to take a pragmatic view rather than jumping helter-skelter into the next ‘green’ thing.

Being more connected with food provenance is an area that is going from strength to strength all the time and one that goes hand in hand with reducing our waste, and packaging in particular. When we realised we were going to be without a car for over a week, our first thought was to cycle into St P for a few bits and pieces . . . then asked ourselves, what bits and pieces, exactly? We have enough of our own and foraged fruit, vegetables and herbs, either fresh, stored or preserved, to last us many months as both food and drink; we have a good supply of grain to mill for flour and a healthy sourdough starter for making bread; our dairy produce comes from the local organic farm and I cycle there to the shop anyway; we buy local high welfare meat in bulk once a year and there is still plenty left in the freezer; we shop so seldom that when we do, we make sure we have a good stock of staples (luxuries?) like olive oil, coffee beans, oats, seeds and wholegrains. We are not self-sufficient, but like my discussion of power cuts last time, we have certainly built a very reassuring level of resilience.

Rosa rugosa rosehips have provided us with an incredible harvest this year.

Of course, it hasn’t all been plain sailing and there have been doubts, dark days and difficult decisions along the way because that’s how life is. For starters, the cheery optimism I felt when drawing up my list was based on the naïve assumption that we would both be in rude health so coping with reduced immobility and pain has been a major frustration for us, especially when we both love to be active and there is so much to do. Having moved here to make spending time with family easier, we found ourselves totally stymied by the ongoing Covid travel restrictions which seemed like the utmost irony at the time. The weather has been tricky to say the least, a two-year drought and severe summer heatwaves causing problems in particular for the young trees and hedging plants we put in. (As an aside, nature has certainly paid that particular debt: trying to find two dry hours together is like looking for hens’ teeth at the moment as France has experienced record rainfall over 33 consecutive days to date.) I struggle with the fact that we are surrounded on three sides by industrial agriculture and no matter how much we try to control and protect what happens within our boundaries, we are at the mercy of what happens in the fields beyond.

Creating a haven of polyculture and biodiversity is an ongoing project.

The latest fly in the ointment is the discovery that the Oak Shed is an illegal structure which needs to be removed, a frustrating fact that should have been picked up at the time of purchase but unfortunately we were in the hands of a very lovely but woefully inexperienced estate agent. It is going to be a big job, one we will certainly need some help with, not least to dispose responsibly of all those sheets of rusty corrugated metal. I’m sad for the spotted flycatchers and swallows who nest in there; the flycatchers will very likely adapt since there are plenty of niches and ledges elsewhere on the property ~ a second pair nested very successfully in the Love Shack this year. The swallows I’m not so sure about and I doubt the much smaller shed we intend to build as a replacement will have the dark cavern appeal they love. Switching to abundance thinking again, it is an opportunity to remove an ugly eyesore which we’ve never liked and replace it with something more attractive and fit for purpose; best of all, though, it means liberating that beautiful mature oak tree and restoring it to the more natural state it deserves.

The oak tree will soon be set free.

Looking back at my list, the elements we haven’t managed to adopt that stand out the most for me are chickens and bees, and this is for two very different but valid reasons. I love having a few hens about the place and I miss them terribly but the problem is a simple one: we have no near neighbours so when we have to travel, there is no-one nearby to look after them and I don’t like asking anyone to travel specially. Also, when doing the sums, by the time we had factored in the cost of materials to build housing and secure fencing, a feeder and drinker plus a few good quality chooks, it amounted to enough bought free-range organic eggs for several years . . . and having recently found a supply of those, I’m happy to go with that. Bees are a different matter: careful observation (a key principle in permaculture) has shown that our summer garden is chock full of honey bees, this year including those from the feral colony in the roof but mostly from apiaries in the area. To introduce our own hives would put pressure on the population but more importantly, that of the wild bees who I have been studying so closely this year. Add to that the risk of hives being cleared out by Asian hornets and I think the sensible decision is not to bother and be content with buying honey from local beekeepers. Mind you, I’m currently reading the somewhat shocking Silent Earth by Dave Goulsen and wondering whether honey is even a good idea any more given the evidence of the amount of pesticides it can contain; food for thought, literally.

Action at a community level beyond my litter picking habit is something that until recently has been lagging behind other things on my list; the tentative opening up of society post-Covid, our personal health problems and the need to focus on getting ourselves an established home and garden have all slowed things down considerably but, like the proverbial London buses, suddenly several opportunities have presented themselves. I’ve managed to find homes for surplus produce, either giving it to individuals or the local charity shop ~ they can’t officially sell fresh goods but they can give them away in exchange for a donation and it’s good to see our butternuts gathered up with thanks and taken to good homes. I’ve started working as a volunteer in the Helianthus charity shop on Saturday mornings and I’m loving the opportunity to meet new people, practise my conversational French and help raise funds by selling pre-loved articles.

We gave butternuts and gained a kitten ~ not sure how that happened. Meet Pwdin!

New friendships have led to many benefits, including swapping of ideas, information, seeds and plants over a sociable tisane as well as the promise of abundant horse manure! As a result, we’ve been invited to join a new association which is being set up to help protect nature in our valley, the idea being to engage the local community in celebrating, appreciating and ultimately helping the fauna and flora that people our landscape as well as supporting and increasing biodiversity. Well, this is right up my street! The association is very much in its infancy but it has been suggested that we might like to open our garden to visitors next summer to share our approach and maybe demonstrate some strategies (I think perhaps building a lasagne bed ~ all hands on deck and dirty, please!). I’ve also toted the idea of a seed and plant swap as I think it’s the sort of event that should be kept as local as possible and I’m hoping to encourage a few other people to join me in doing the eBMS weekly butterfly walk. It’s new and exciting and feels like just the sort of thing we should be doing.

The perennial lasagne bed: perennial kale, raspberries, rhubarb, globe artichokes, Welsh onions, soapwort, comfrey, costmary and verbena bonariensis are all perfect subjects to share at a plant swap.

Writing a blog has taught me the benefits of belonging to online communities, too, and I’ve been delighted to find the time and motivation to join two new communities recently. The first is an intermediate recorder group which ‘meets’ on Zoom twice a month to play together, the other is the SaySomethingin language learning community where I have committed at long, long last to learn to speak Welsh properly. I am enjoying both immensely and it feels nourishing to be connecting with a diverse and supportive group of like-minded people. I’ve also subscribed to a weekly update from Positive.News whose journalistic articles I am very much enjoying, there is much on the site not only to pique my interest and keep me informed but also to offer much-needed hope in the light of all that is going on. I don’t buy into the endless stream of all-too-saccharine ‘happy’ pictures’ on social media but at the same time, I firmly believe that change for the better comes through happy thoughts and positive actions. If you want to test that hypothesis, try smiling at a stranger: the worst that can happen is they’ll think you’re slightly crazy but the flip side is that it might just make their day . . . and what could be more uplifting than that? 😊

Storms

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They say March comes in like a lion but this year I think November takes the biscuit. We weren’t as storm-battered as the more western reaches of northern France but even so, strong winds, yet more torrential rain and a couple of hours without electricity last week certainly made an impact. For me, it was a reminder of the sheer raw power of nature and the extent to which, despite ~ or maybe because of? ~ all our mod cons, we are so quickly rendered vulnerable. We have lived in rural areas all our lives, so building resilience in the face of often prolonged winter power cuts comes as second nature. Woodburning stoves mean we can boil a kettle, heat food and keep warm while a generator (albeit it a noisy beast) allows us to boost power to our freezers if necessary as the thought of losing so much of our preserved produce doesn’t bear thinking about. That’s why we bottle and dry a lot, too; there’s much wisdom in not putting all our eggs in one basket. Even so, the lack of electricity brings home just how much we rely on it in our daily lives especially when it includes telephone and internet. In the good old days, at least our round-dialled landline phone would still have worked, but with mobile networks wiped out as well, it seemed we only had smoke signals to fall back on. Ironically, we had no way of reporting the outage to the electricity network company; thank goodness we didn’t need to call any emergency services!

Our experience of power cuts in France is that they are few and far between and when they do occur, the electricity is back pretty swiftly and a couple of hours without is nothing more than a minor inconvenience. Freezers and other essential equipment aside, I believe time without everything at the flick of a switch is actually beneficial, especially at this time of year as the year fades, light diminishes and colder weather creeps in. There is something about firelight, candlelight and a distinct lack of electronic equipment and screens that slows and soothes in a way that I think can be deeply restorative and restful. Many people remain incredulous at the fact that we have no television, tablet or smartphone; quite honestly, I don’t know when I would have time to spend glued to such screens but one huge benefit is that come the power cuts or long winter evenings, we have no difficulty coping without or amusing ourselves. The darker evenings and inclement weather naturally lead me to drift back into woolly world and new knitting, crochet and spinning projects for the winter; I can play my recorders, practise language study (I’ve recently committed to learning Welsh properly at last), scribble blog post drafts, plan menus, play games, do jigsaws, read, chat or sit quietly with my thoughts. On the one hand, it’s a fundamental part of living a simple life, on the other a satisfying example of resilience: electricity or not, we can entertain ourselves.

After the storms, the sunshine . . .

Although it would probably take 24 hours without electricity before anything in our packed freezers started to defrost, I feel comforted by the fact that we can still pick a decent dinner out of the garden, especially as the season of slow, one-pot cooking ~ those wonderfully aromatic casseroles, curries and tagines that make such good comfort food ~ has begun. The tunnel is ridiculously full for the time of year and I’m struggling to believe that we are still picking copious amounts of aubergines and peppers full of flavour and crunch; the plants are beginning to fade away but the harvest certainly goes on. The salad leaves, too, are going great guns and there is something about the piquant tang of things like mustards, landcress and rocket that suits the season well. The komatsuna has been a bit nibbled in places which is no surprise as the environment becomes much damper at this time of year and the slimy ones appear, but there is no shortage of leafy, herby forage to be had.

Outside, the garden continues to look green and full despite autumn now painting the trees in fiery hues and here, too, there is plenty of good food on offer. We have never seen a Jerusalem artichoke harvest like it, one root produces enough tubers for many, many meals, and along with parsnips, black radish, carrots and celeriac, they form the backbone of our starchy staples (plus the potatoes and squash in storage, of course). For greens we have leeks, several types of kale, New Zealand spinach (which has been hugely prolific this year), cabbages and autumn calabrese, the latter having been another lesson in letting nature do its thing. At one point in the summer, I had all but given up on a harvest as the plants were struggling in the way so many brassicas can do here; the drought in May certainly didn’t go down well and then the beasties moved in and started devouring young shoots. I cut off the affected parts, mainly because it frustrated me to look at them, and made a mental note to seriously consider not planting any next year as they don’t seem very enthusiastic. Left to their own devices, the insect infestation fizzled out, the plants recovered and grew strongly and we have been enjoying regular pickings ever since. Despite turning to flowers and seeds now, there are still plenty to harvest and they are decent thick stems, too.

When the calabrese is over, winter cabbages will come into their own.

One of the aspects I love about the way we garden ~ planting in crammed, chaotic polycultures ~ is that there are always a few surprises to find along the way. I’ve been chopping and dropping areas of spent plants this week, spreading compost and muck then tucking everything up in a luxurious thick blanket of chopped dead leaves and grass clippings. Apart from the improving state of the soil, which is becoming ever darker and full of humus and worms plus the breathtaking abundance of fungi everywhere, there have been a few little discoveries to make me smile. First, a final crop of purple dwarf beans hiding beneath a row of parsnips then the sudden emergence of a striking ‘Candy Floss’ kale plant in a bed of carrots and phacelia, a new variety for us this year and one I had assumed had failed completely. Hooray for one brave survivor!

I’ve been scattering mixed lettuce seed far and wide as I mulch in the hope that volunteers will pop up everywhere next spring; however, a decent little plant I found underneath the globe artichokes definitely arrived there without any help from me and is a very edible bonus. I love it when the garden starts planting itself.

The strawberry circle has just about finished producing fruit although there are still flowers on some plants, not that they will come to anything now; I really need to get in their next year and have a bit of a sort out, it’s quite a jungle. The whole patch is peppered with large borage plants covered in beautiful starry blue blooms which are attracting small numbers of bumble bees and the occasional honey bee on warmer days as well as providing a colourful splash in salads. Sitting with my afternoon cuppa on a sunny afternoon of muck-and-mulching, watching the bees at work, I suddenly realised there was something a bit different going on: one of the plants has pure white flowers. Now where on earth has that come from, it’s certainly nothing to do with me?

I’ve done my final butterfly walk for the year. Having counted only two Red Admiral and two Speckled Wood (as compared to 90+ insects and 14 species in the summer), I think it’s time to call it a day until next spring. What struck me is the fact that three out of the four were in the garden section of my transect and only one along the lane. Having seen more of the same in the garden this week, as well as Wall and Large White, I can see just how important gardens are in helping to support insect populations and increasing appropriate food plants as well as habitat / hibernation spots needs to be an ongoing affair for us.

Red Admiral butterflies sunning themselves on an apple tree after feasting on the fallen fruit.

It’s easy to underestimate the bounty to be found in the garden at this time of year when death and decay are becoming prominent but even so I wasn’t holding my breath as I set out to count the number of plants in the garden that are still flowering. Thanks to Sonja @reasonably goodlife for the inspiration on this one! I only counted species and not varieties, so for instance we have several different types of roses in flower which I simply counted once as ‘rose’, but I counted everything with flowers on, including vegetables and wild flowers.

I have to admit I was very pleasantly surprised when the final count (I did it a few times just to check) came to 59 types of plant, of which 15 were wild flowers. Apart from finding far more than I expected, it was interesting to note just what was going on and in particular, how many perennial plants (roses, lavender, hyssop, sedum and sage to name a few) were having a second or even third flush. Quite what primroses are doing in flower now is another matter altogether! Many of the annuals are second or third generation this year which confirms my belief that letting them merrily self-seed is a positive approach, as is allowing vegetables to flower if the number of insects (particularly hoverflies) in the parsnip, fennel and calabrese flowers is anything to go by. The cosmos is pretty much over but I was delighted to find solitary bees feeding in the few ragged flowers that are left ~ hence my choice of top photo for this post.

The ruby chard isn’t flowering but brings a gorgeous splash of colour to the garden.

I’m not sure how long many of the flowers will last given how much rain we are having at the moment; autumn so far has definitely been a seriously soggy affair. This is good news in terms of soaking the ground, replenishing water stocks and returning the water table to its normal level for the first time in a couple of years but I’m beginning to feel like webbed feet might be an asset, especially as there is no let up in the 15-day forecast. The days in between the downpours are beautiful and I’d love to go walking and capture some photos of the autumn colours against a brilliant blue sky . . . but then, we have so many things to be doing outside and it feels so good to be busy in the sunshine that we don’t want to leave the garden! One important job that Roger has done is build the usual woven hazel windbreak to protect the purple sprouting broccoli plants from stormy weather since they have a nasty habit of being blown over or even out of the ground when it is so wet. That would be a very sad loss of one of our favourite staple spring vegetables, for sure. Other tasks will have to be tackled whenever we can dodge the storms or else we simply have to don our waterproofs and wellies and get on with it. Still, it’s worth it when we can then spend the evening cooking and enjoying seasonal dishes based on what comes out of the patch, old favourites and new recipes alike. That said, I’m still not sure we’re up to dealing with enough Jerusalem artichokes to feed an army. Wish us luck with that one, we’re going to need it!