20/09/2026
Autumnal colour seems a little slow to get started this year, but that’s okay. As long as we don’t get any serious storms, it will hopefully last well into November, maybe even early December, shortening the bleakness of the on coming winter. There is something rather lovely about watching the change happen slowly, almost day by day, as the greens gradually give way to golds, russets, copper and deep reds. The low autumn sun seems to make everything glow, especially on those still mornings when the garden is covered in dew and there is just a hint of frost in the air.
The fading and slow decline of the garden brings a whole new colour palette, every bit as beautiful as high summer but uniquely softer and more impactful, you know it’s going to be the last hurrah. The exuberance of summer has gone, the flowers are fewer and the borders are beginning to look a little tired, but there is beauty in that too. Seedheads stand tall amongst the fading grasses, fallen leaves gather in corners and the last few stubborn flowers seem all the more precious because you know they won’t be there for much longer. Even the dying back has its own beauty at this time of year.
I’ve seen the last four months of the year referred to as the ‘Ber’ months on various social media sites over the last few weeks, and I think it’s a fitting way to name them. Collectively, it seems to transform the end of the year into a magical season of celebration and cosy, warm reflection. September still holds a little of summer, October brings the full richness of autumn, November settles into darker evenings and bare branches, and then December arrives with its lights, fires and festivities. Each month seems to have its own personality, but together they create this lovely gentle winding down towards the end of the year.
Wet, miserable, cold days are for tucking up snug and cosy in front of the fire, content that another year has passed by, joyful for all we gained and sad for all we have lost, but also knowing that we get to start each day, each season and even each year anew. There is something comforting about listening to the rain against the windows while the fire crackles away, perhaps with a hot drink in hand and The Models curled up nearby. The garden can wait for a while on those days. There is nowhere else to be and nothing that really needs doing except being warm, cosy and grateful for the simple comforts that this time of year brings.
Dry, crisp days are for going outside, either to enjoy the falling leaves and spectacular colour autumn can uniquely bring or for working in the garden, putting it to bed for another year. There is something very satisfying about clearing away the spent growth, cutting back what needs cutting back, gathering leaves and preparing everything for the long winter ahead. The air feels different too, cleaner and sharper somehow, and there is often that wonderful earthy smell of damp leaves, moss and freshly turned soil. Its a real pleasure knowing that all the while everything above ground may be slumbering, underneath life is still going strong making all the preparation carried out this time of year feel worthwhile. Bulbs are quietly settling in, roots are still growing and beneath the surface the garden is already preparing for spring.
Perhaps that is what I love most about this time of year. It reminds us that not everything needs to be busy or blooming to be alive. The garden slows down, the days shorten and the natural world seems to take a deep breath, but underneath it all there is still so much going on. Autumn and winter are not simply an ending, they are part of the cycle, a necessary pause before everything begins again. And there is something rather comforting in knowing that while we are putting another year to bed, the next one is already quietly waiting beneath the surface.
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