Autumn lands with a thud as it usually does up here where four seasons are clearly defined. The tribe of Treeferns, sixty strong, which are the immediate joy to the eye in this garden, were weakened by the long drought but, finally, the rains arrived, fell gently and long and regenerated the land. It’s different elsewhere.
The deep blue/purple Tibouchinas flower late in the year. They’re more adapted to warmer climes but survive quite happily in a sheltered spot and their brilliant colour against the emerald green fronds of the Treeferns delight the heart.
‘Toughen up’ and ‘Become resilient’ is the message I take from the Tibouchinas while time itself allows for that development to occur … or perhaps not. They can still get burnt by the frost and winter cold – the sheltered spot, in the beginning, is the key.
Meanwhile the bulbs of daffodil, snowdrop, jonquil and grape hyacinth appear and a whole cycle continues. Polyanthus, rescued in high summer and replanted deep in some shade, are now good sized and ready to be replanted into the beds of winter sun and where, to my lifelong amazement, they happily flower in the snow.
Autumn jobs are done which is just as well as winter wind is unpleasant to work in.
It’s a garden report in a time of ‘social isolation’ … and happening just as I was getting used to the idea of ‘socialising.’
Been revisiting the works of Alan Wilson and place a video below. His version of early British history is not accepted by academia but that doesn’t indicate that he is factually wrong. Academics are notorious for jealously guarding the status quo which allowed them a position in the first place.
I’m only sorry that his meticulous research is so poorly known. He tells a remarkable story and backs it up.