The October Garden
October's poplars are flaming torches lighting the way to winter.
There’s something transformational and perhaps melancholy about October, captured perfectly in WB Yeats’s poem The Wild Swans at Coole, the first poem I ever properly analysed at A level, and can still recite decades later.
October is summer clothes paired with sweaters and thicker socks, whilst you rake the leaves (or jump in them) and dark evening walks that calm the mind and promote better sleep. The Romantics knew a thing or two about awe-inspiring Nature and a moonlit walk is just the job to make you feel part of something, connected. There are still bulbs to plant and the garden to tidy and put to bed for Winter. Summer salads and smoothies give way to hearty stews and soups; the winter blankets come out to snuggle underneath and as we recently installed a new wood burner, on a particularly cold night it is tempting to put a match to a few logs.
The urge to sow seeds is not as strong now but I can’t resist sowing a bit of winter salad near the kitchen door and some sweet peas in the cold frame. As long as they’re protected from the rain, they’ll survive and will romp away in Spring, long before the ones that are sown later.
By the end of the month, I’ll hope to have a pantry full of chutney, chilli jam and quince jelly, the Christmas cake will be made and we’ll have enjoyed a few days away walking around a National Trust property or two, tramping on (usually wet) leaves. Come All Hallows Eve, the kitchen windowsill will have a seasonal display of conkers, squash, hips and haws and fragrant candles. If there’s a colour for this time of year, then surely it must be orange? Carved pumpkins with flickering candles, plates of beautiful gourds and squash, cape gooseberries hanging from the ceiling, burnished leaves and bonfires.
It feels like the start of Winter; a bittersweet time of year. A time of beginnings and endings; of properly moving inside to focus on the hearth; of reflection. I do love it – damp and misty mornings, dark nights and the feeling of life slowing down. Of course, the lack of daylight hours can be a very powerful negative force but if you spend at least half an hour outside every day -whatever the weather – most people will get by quite happily.
If you’re looking for a creative activity that doesn’t involve the therapeutic chopping of fruit or veg and stirring a pot, then I’d recommend making firelighters. It couldn’t be simpler. Melt a tealight minus its foil casing in a paper cake case in the oven for a few minutes. The ends of candles would do just as well. Then add a drop of orange (clove or myrrh?) essential oil to each case along with a slice of dried orange, a small pinecone and a cinnamon stick. In the past I used some wood shavings too but now I’m older, wiser and have no intention of cleaning up the mess.) Leave the wax to cool and harden. Pop them into a basket to sit alongside your hearth or pack up in a paper bag and tie with a pretty ribbon and gift label if you want something homemade to give as a gift. Simple, practical and creative. The perfect way to while away an October afternoon when you can’t get outside.