The rain has finally arrived, and brought with it a cool, freshness that signals the end of summer here in Bedfordshire. Autumn is definitely on the horizon; the earth no longer smells warm and baked, and the sun is sitting lower in the sky. The long nights are finally beginning to draw in and I sense that the birds are beginning to fatten up, foraging and gorging on berries, nuts and seeds that we leave out for them.

The garden marches on, despite the relentless heat followed by relentless downpours in late August. My raspberries are ripening slowly, though the berries are a dainty and the yield noticeably smaller than last year. I’m still collecting blackberries from our scrambling brambles, and the apples from our two little trees have ripened early too. In the flower borders, helenium, cosmos and the Californian poppies continue to bloom. The veg patch looks bare, save for a few strips of chives, carrots, burgeoning nasturtiums, and a blaze of bold colour from the marigolds and zinnia that have thrived despite a prolonged heatwave and drought-like conditions. 

I’ve been longing to get back to my little potager, but I’ve been so busy with work and motherhood. To be honest I’m surprised I’ve achieved as much as I have this year, harvesting fruit and just about keeping things looking relatively neat and in order. Winter, spring and summer of 2018 have been seasons of extremes, and I have a feeling 2018 isn’t done with us yet. I’d love to think a gentle autumn is on the cards – fresh, sunny days interspersed with enough rain to keep things ticking over. I’d love to think I have enough time to put my autumn plans into action:

– Create two new no-dig beds; one for soft fruit, and one for cut flowers (if I can persuade Rich to give up some more lawn!)

– Plant in leeks

– Paint the tool shed

– Tidy the greenhouse

– Mulch, mulch, and mulch some more

– Tidy our little woodland patch

– Plant the paper birch trees

– Plant a James Grieve apple tree to create a trio of Blenheim Orange, Charles Ross, and James Grieve.

With the nights drawing in fast as we hit the midway point in September, I can feel my time is becoming really limited again. I’m working hard to rebuild my freelance portfolio, but with little E now over the two-year mark and catapulting around toddler-style, and Rich busy with getting DIY patch up jobs around the house before winter comes, my hands are really full at the moment.

This spring has been pretty polarised so far this year – bitterly cold days and a couple of mini heatwaves have created tumultuous conditions, and at times it felt like we didn’t know whether spring was coming or going. Finally, May seems to have settled into itself, and the beautiful blue skies of late spring have shifted the growing season into a new gear. 

I don’t tend to sow my seeds on time; I’m usually late due to too much distraction from life, from work, and from all the things in between. But it’s OK I think… I used to be so fixated on Doing The Right Thing at the Right Time and when I didn’t, I was a failure. My hobby and passion turned into a string of failures and I would often document on this blog how I was doing everything wrong, always behind, never achieving what I needed to achieve. I have a different mindset now. 

If you look at the natural world, it’s pretty fluid. I feel that my sowing and growing schedules can be fluid too. Had I got going early in the season and sown everything in sight, I think I would have faced a few problems with the unseasonally cold temperatures and late frosts. I don’t think I would be much more further ahead right now. But now I have a sense of everything around me really jumping into life and growing steadily. I’m not much of a “measurer” or someone who is really into following details, so I tend to be quite intuitive and go by feeling rather than thinking. That’s why I’m happy to sow, plant and harvest as and when I *feel* it’s the right time. 

May has got to be one of my favourite months; there is a real energy, an abundance of fresh, tender, green growth everywhere – a natural, zesty hue that is so hard to replicate – that contrasts perfectly against an early summer porcelain blue sky. Flowers and blossom are putting on a showstopper, and there’s just so much good to come. There is still enough freshness in the air that is so often absent in the heady, more humid months of July and August, yet enough warmth in the sun (when it’s out) that it feels almost medicinal. 

I think, on reflection, that over the years I’ve started to trust my own instincts, when it comes to garden and growing. I’ve learned to listen to nature and not necessarily rigid instructions. This has been borne out of my inability to do anything “on time”, and more recently, my inability to find any time. But you know what? There is always some time, it may not be a perfect time, but it’s a moment, an opportunity and… let’s just take these moments as they come. 

To start the season off I’ve sown some flower seeds, including cosmos and gaura, for the next season on our mini flower farm. The salad leaves are in, the carrots sown directly, peas are scrambling away and the strawberries… well, I think this year is going to be a bumper year for strawberries! I’m enjoying just taking my growing at my own pace, and seeing how it all unfolds…