Late August. The days get noticeably shorter and the nights cooler. Hedgerows colour with ripeningberries and swelling rose hips. After an action-packed summer comes a quiet bank holiday followed by two weekends empty of diary dates. Meanwhile, the pace at work has picked up considerably as people return from holidays and brace for what's always the busiest few months of the year.
Our response to this brief transitional period has been to bunker in and enjoy some time at home as we pass our first anniversary in the new place.
The garden, which I'd left to get on and grow after the spring's intensive planting out, needed several days of serious attention. Weeding and pruning. Early summer annuals ripped out, late summer holes filled with some new perennials. A few mis-judged plantings re-arranged.
Overall, I'm delighted. It's hard to believe this was a featureless sward of grass at this time last year. It's obvious, at least to a gardener's eye, that all the plants are young, but they're bedding in well. The hottest, driest summer in more than a decade has been a mixed blessing. Though the sun's encouraged things along, the unusual heat and dryness (I don't always remember to water) have actually retarded some growth. My dwarf cherry, white monkshood, ornamental thistle and delphiniums all suffered from heatstroke, dropping all their leaves and appearing dead before starting over. Meanwhile the centaurea and and one of my penstemons suffered another trauma: both evidently bear buds delicious to a puppy's taste buds.
Several other penstemons, however, have put on a dramatic show. My luscious pink rose Geoff Hamilton and its neighbouring vivid blue anchusa Loddon Royalist have been in almost continuous bloom all summer, and my sweet peas provided vases of cut flowers for two months. My hosta bed, though planted just across the street from a wetland park area filled with slugs, has remained miraculously un-munched. My espaliered apple with its little hedge of lavender looks to be sinking its roots happily and I'm hoping for fruit next year.
The pond, as designed, is the highlight of it all. In four months of operation the Cotswold stone has already taken on a golden patina of age and the cascade is growing a carpet of attractive green beneath the water. The fish are happy, growing, and thus far undiscovered by any birds of prey. Though the water hyacinths haven't been a success, the water lilies have given me enough blooms for me to note I really must buy more. A large pot sitting on one of the partially submerged plinths, filled with a variety of purple, pink and white lythrums is a showy centrepiece. The alpines tucked into niches in the rocks edging the pond have struggled with the weather, however. It will be interesting to see what comes back in the spring.
As the month grew to a close our social diary, which had been packed throughout the summer, suddenly opened up. A stretch of quiet weekends, free of formal plans, left us relaxing at home in the mellow fruitfulness of the season. We've been cooking up a storm. This is, of course, the best time of the year for the organic veg delivery boxes from Riverford, and I've been able to complement them with parsley, zucchini and poblano peppers from the garden. My tomatoes and eggplants, however, have been an unfruitful waste of space. I'll stick to flowers next year.
The social slowdown comes in tandem with a quickening of pace at work. In fact, more like 0-to-60 in three seconds as a new vice president settles into her post and tries to fix all of our issues immediately. My hours have spiked along with my excitement.
So there's the summer, gone. After a brief lull, the madcap gallop to the end of the year begins. Work hard, play hard, with at least one long weekend a month to keep life in balance. Coming up in the closing months of the year: birthday Michelin stars, exploring Iceland with the NU girls, a return to Barcelona and the magic of the Christmas season. Bring it on.
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