Autumn Colours

We are now in the period of the year where my dear partner leaves for work before dawn and returns after dark Monday to Friday. Can you get three for two on serotonin anywhere? I'm not particularly an outdoor junkie - why walk in the sun when you can see pictures of it on screen? - but I do understand that from time to time it is good for me.

What a privilege to be able to gaze out of my window by day on to a garden of gorgeous reds, browns and yellowy greens - and also to live with someone who can, with minimal effort, transform our conservatory so it mirrors those colours. Local guests who wish to dress to match the furniture (they do exist, really) need to move into the season of reds and purples.

Autumn?

Is it me or...? No, I know it's me. It's always me but, to put it differently, which is awkward as I haven't exactly put it yet, is it cold? Do I idealise the past to remember that summer holidays were, in the 1960s, largely summery? Or have I simply summerised them? Get lost spell-checker it's a pun. But I'm sure my sister and I spent all of August playing in the garden and rain was a rarity.

I went out to the pub the other night and Mrs M (who wears a minimum of two layers from August to May inclusive) suggested that a short-sleeved shirt was not enough. As I am male and unable to take advice I proceeded out of the door.

At the pub my companions had chosen to sit outdoors and, as the evening wore on, put on the fleeces they had brought with them.

Now I don't really do cold. Which is to say that I know when it is a bit nippy but rarely feel it is unpleasant. Hot - now that's nasty, sticky and saps my strength. Cold is OK. But it was a bit parky that night and I admitted as much to my drinking companions (who agreed about summers past) and on my return (because I'm not so macho I can't admit to a woman that she was right).

This morning the world is still, there is decaying vegetation in the air (and it's not just that the kitchen bin needs emptying although it does) and the garden feels kind of transitional. I think autumn is breaking out earlier. September is one of my favourite months as I rejoice in the departing of hay-fever, sticky nights and flies in the conservatory. Let's not peak too soon world.

Will need to wear thicker T-shirts this week.

Autumn

I can't remember an autumn like this one. It is mild. Few leaves are hungry for the wind and most are hanging onto their branches as if they are trapeze artists for whom letting go would be life and death. The bright red berries make suburban pyracantha look like steroid bulked body-builders.

In researching the spelling of pyracantha I discovered that the berries are edible; recipe suggestions here. I'd love to make more jams and jellies (and puds and cakes) but it seems to me that anything you add over a kilo of sugar to is not going to do much for your life expectancy. It is just about the only thing I could do with my crab apples next year though. This year we arrived too late and had to compost the lot.

I have now learned that the weather here is unpredictable, even by the BBC local web-site. If the rainy symbol appears there I now go to the animated map and watch how far away the rain clouds are and how fast they are travelling. This method meant that today, a predicted rainy day when I would normally have kept washing inside, has seen it blowing in the garden breeze until now (3.30 pm).

I'm enjoying living so close to rural even if I am in suburbia. Next piece of research needs to be mushrooms and truffles. Free food. Bit of a theme.

Autumn Watch

I was an avid devotee of BBC's Springwatch and so now try and watch Autumnwatch whenever I can. It's a brilliant programme but mainly for observation of John Ruskin's '...nature red in tooth and bloody in claw' than for the beauty of creation all around. It's a different type of beauty this. Take, the rut, for instance.

This time of year the stags start to round up the females and try and keep them on the 'rutting slopes' so that they are ready for that brief moment when they become 'in season.' (When the moment does come it is all over rather quickly).

Whilst waiting for this time the males wander around covering their antlers deliberately in grass, roaring (which is what the word rut means in latin) and having head to heads with challengers. I wonder if this is where the expression 'feeling horny' comes from?

These head to heads are vicious, ending with broken antlers and bloody faces. The losers look worse. All this ensures that only the fittest males get to mate.

Down on the beach the male seals have similar problems. Only they have no antlers so they compete by biting chunks out of each others necks. When the winners - the biggest, fattest, toughest, blubberiest males - get to mate it is once again time for neck-biting, which has to be sore by then.

And all this ensures that each species continues because only those deer and seals which can produce young with a top chance of survival get to bonk. Respect to one, particularly ugly stag with only one antler, who nipped in and tried to score while the tough guys weren't looking. It's a technique I was proud of in my teens.

'But why are people important to you?
Why do you take care of human beings?'
(Psalm 8:4 New Century Bible)

The psalmist asked great questions.

September

My favourite month of the year is May. No competition. Living in England I love the promise of spring turning to green reality without the added bonus of hay fever, yet. Add to that two Bank Holidays in one month and my birthday to look forward to at the end and it's pretty much perfect. It's also only three letters long so easy to write.

But September has to be second. The cool (but not cold) early mornings with the pleasant smell of just-rotting vegetation on the breeze. The swifts may have long gone but my favourite tree is still buzzing with bees. And I've finally identified it. Alder Buckthorn 'The small heroic unsung tree'. After fourteen years of being on my patio it has finally given up its secret. Grateful thanks to this place for helping me get there. Very usable tree identifying site. I now know about rounded, toothless, alternate, common leaves. And you can grow it from cuttings or seeds. A tree not a web-site. Gonna try.

So this September promises a minimum of three leaving events, another wedding anniversary (29), the first house move for fourteen years to number 29 (same as my mother's flat number and the number of Liz's house when I met her) and a new start in a new place. Let the mayhem commence.