As the seasons ebb and flow, so too does the ever-changing beauty of our founder Lucy’s cottage garden. Each month, she shares quiet musings from among the borders - small joys, new discoveries, and the gentle rhythms of nature as they unfold. From the first unfurling petals of spring to the mellow glow of autumn, these notes offer a glimpse into a garden forever in motion.
Living in a country not known for reliable seasons means I’m always hoping for long, warm summers. But as wonderful as they are when they do arrive, they don’t always lead to a happy autumn garden. So, after the long spell of sunshine we’ve had, it feels like a real stroke of luck to see everything still thriving. What I love most at this time of year is that moment when the rich tones of turning leaves mix with the last of the floral displays – the soft purple clouds from the asters are especially lovely just now. So much so, in fact, that I’m already plotting more of them for next year.
I always think of the beautiful burst of dahlias as the garden's last hurrah, a final flourish of colour before the season begins to turn. That time is drawing to a close now, though a few of my white varieties are still giving me reason to head out with my cutting scissors. They look especially lovely alongside the second flush of white foxgloves that have happily appeared in the front rose bed
This time of year always seems full of small blessings – one of the nicest being the self-seeded nasturtiums currently making a second appearance. They may be more leaf than flower this time around, but I never tire of their lily pad–shaped leaves, adding a fresh pop of vibrant green among the autumn tones now taking over the garden.
Something that always makes me feel especially autumnal is the abundance of crab apples on our espaliers. They’re so striking as their colour deepens, maturing into a rich cherry red that stands out against the fading leaves. I’ve been busy harvesting my crop and passing them on to a friend who’s far more skilled at making crab apple jelly than I am – I’ve yet to master the art myself. One day!
The bees and butterflies are slowly disappearing from the garden, and in their place there seem to be more spiders than ever before. You can hardly walk into a corner without brushing against a web – not ideal for the spider-fearing, but they do take on the most magical appearance when glistening with morning dew.
