Late summer blues . . . and yellows, oranges, reds – even some vivid greens

I think late summer-early autumn is my favorite time of the year. We’ve enjoyed the dog days of high summer. The heat is slipping away, an unusual feature of any normal British summer; recently we experienced some of the highest temperatures I can remember.

Yet yesterday (21 August) it already felt more like autumn, as Storm Ellen, an area of deep low pressure, was battering Ireland and the western side of the UK with wind gusts in some places in excess of 50 mph, and even reaching more than 40 mph here in northeast Worcestershire.

Even so, the sun tried to shine, a welcome break from the miserable weather earlier in the week when it was wet and overcast all day. Made worse by the rain finding a crack in the flat roof above our kitchen, and seeping through to splash all over a work surface below. Bummer! But hopefully now resolved with the judicious application of a product I’d not come across before: Fiba-Pol.

But enough of my waxing unlyrical about the weather, which everyone knows is favorite British pastime.


I love this transition from summer to autumn. A time when the colors in the garden are often at their strongest and most vibrant. Here are just a few of the lovely plants in Steph’s garden right now. I call it ‘Steph’s garden’ because it’s her creation, and she does all the hard work. I don’t get involved, and she prefers it that way. My only contribution is to keep the lawns to the front and rear of our home under control.


And nature’s bounty is on full display on many trees and bushes as fruits begin to form. 2020 looks like an exceptional mast year.

While trees have lost that bright green vibrancy of spring (I’ve already even seen leaves changing color on some trees close to home, but I think that’s more to do with the dry weather we have experienced in recent weeks), they are regaining it through the abundance of fruits that are forming right now, such as the acorns on oak trees everywhere. Or the prickly fruits on the sweet and horse chestnuts.

The bright red berries of the rowan trees in the vicinity hold great promise for the many birds that feast upon them, building up their reserves for the winter ahead, or maybe in preparation for a long migration south. And if I made wines, there seems to be an abundance of elderberries this year as well.

Before long, all these fruitful delights will have been consumed by the local wildlife, or rallen from the boughs. Already I’ve seen many acorns crushed underfoot. From little acorns mighty oak trees grow; but not these. Soon the trees will be bare, the abundance of color in the gardens faded away, and autumn and winter will creep inexorably along.

However, there is always the promise of next spring, and that is always something to look forward to.


 

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