Autumn Days When the Grass is Jewelled

When I was in lower school, every Wednesday we had ‘Singing Assembly’. By far my favourite song to sing was a catchy tune called ‘Autumn Days’ by Estelle White. The lyrics go like this:

Autumn days, when the grass is jewelled
And the silk inside a chestnut shell
Jet planes meeting in the air to be refuelled
All these things I love so well

So I mustn’t forget
No, I mustn’t forget
To say a great big thank you
I mustn’t forget.

Clouds that look like familiar faces
And a winter’s moon with frosted rings
Smell of bacon as I fasten up my laces
And the song the milkman sings.

So I mustn’t forget
No, I mustn’t forget
To say a great big thank you
I mustn’t forget.

Whipped-up spray that is rainbow-scattered
And a swallow curving in the sky
Shoes so comfy though they’re worn out and they’re battered
And the taste of apple pie.

So I mustn’t forget
No, I mustn’t forget
To say a great big thank you
I mustn’t forget.

Scent of gardens when the rain’s been falling
And a minnow darting down a stream
Picked-up engine that’s been stuttering and stalling
And a win for my home team.

So I mustn’t forget
No, I mustn’t forget
To say a great big thank you
I mustn’t forget.

It’s been a funny year, weatherwise. I suppose in many ways we’ve had a ‘normal’ year, in that we’ve had a long, cold winter, a beautiful spring, a hot summer, and for the most part a very wet August. My recollections of my childhood summers are tinged with reds and oranges – sunshine, long warm evenings, burnt grass, as well as (I imagine) the eye-wateringly bright neons that defined children’s fashion of the late 80s. Throughout my teens in the 90s, I seem to recall that a great deal of the summers I experienced in the UK were slightly dull, grey and wet. But now it seems so strange that it’s been so… well, almost normal?

The thing I really love about living in England is the fact that I get to experience all the seasons. There’s something refreshing and invigorating moving through each part of the annual cycle. Although it’s a slow, constant change, there’s so much familiarity there too. I know what I have to look forward to, what I need to prepare for, and when it comes I’m so very ready for it.

And I’m definitely ready for Autumn. Despite the persistent rains of August, I’m over the long, hot days of summer. It’s like a ‘Back to School’ feeling. I’m ready for the slight evening chills, the colour changes and most of all, the abundance of Autumn. You see, food-wise, Autumn is categorically my favourite time of year. I might be the fussiest vegetarian in existence, but I’m a great lover of seasonal Autumn food – root vegetables, squashes, preserves, jams and chutneys, brassicas, herbs, beans, peppers and crusty fresh bread with everything. I think that the inherent prehistoric cavewoman still residing within me knows it’s a busy time to collect, store and prepare for the long winter months ahead, and there’s something I really like about that. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but it’s a comforting, calming feeling.

This year I also know that financially, it’s going to be a tough few months ahead too. So I’m already planning ahead and thinking about how I can frugally line my cupboards, navigate my way through the festive season, whilst preparing for the next growing season. I need to pull down all my preserving books, look through my recipe books and think – how can I make the best of what Autumn offers?

So as I find them, I think I’m going to put up some of my favourite Autumn comfort food recipes. Let’s face it, there’s not left in my Smallest Smallholding veg plots to use – a few squashes, some runner beans, damsons and plums (I’m hoping next year I’ll have my first sloes to pick from the blackthorn bushes), and the remnants of this year’s raspberry crop. But the thing with growing your own – and something I’m still learning about – is that you’re always looking and planning ahead, and I always find that a very exciting prospect.