Diary of a Country Garden, October 2008
Last updated at 13:06, Wednesday, 10 September 2008
Shorter days and lengthening nights are bringing the vegetable garden to the close of its most productive phase. In place, the orchard becomes the focus of attention. There is something deeply instinctive that draws us towards an apple tree laden with fruit, not necessarily to pick the apples, but sometimes simply to reach out to touch the fruit or just to look more closely. I can never really predict the quantity or quality of crop – it varies so much from year to year depending on weather, or whether nature’s cycle determines a year of rest or a year of abundance for individual trees. This season at Rose Castle, the crop seems sparser than usual but is evenly distributed among the collection of trees, young and old. Ripe apples are ready for picking and eating but many more will be stored in one of the castle cellars for use in early winter.
A photograph from 1911 of the site where the orchard is now situated shows a large, intricate parterre of symmetrical, small beds planted with seasonal bedding interspersed with finely raked, gravel paths – a reminder of an era when the bishop’s gardeners could be counted on both hands. From this photograph, we know that even the most gnarled, lichenous apple tree in the orchard will be no more than 90 years old, but for some varieties of apple, that is still verging towards elderly. To ensure the continuation of a healthy spread of ages, I planted two young trees in the spring. ‘Lord Lambourne’ and ‘Ashmead’s Kernel’ were highly recommended by a nursery in Dumfries as cultivars that would fare well in Cumbria. Local advice and knowledge paid off – both trees have produced vigorous new growth and a few small apples in their first year.
Damson trees are promising to be far less productive than usual. The lack of fruit was predictable as soon as frosts browned and burned the white damson blossom in April, but even so, the thought of a Cumbrian autumn bereft of damsons is disappointing. Damson jam and damson gin will be in short supply here this winter.
Foliage in beds and borders is fading as summer’s rush of energy subsides, but some late flowering annuals and perennials are in full bloom and still tempt visits from butterflies and bees on the sunniest days. I grow a few rows of Rudbeckia ‘Rustic Dwarf’ and ‘Irish Eyes’ purely for their reliable, late summer flowers that I find indispensable for cutting. Daisy-shaped blooms in shades of amber, mahogany and sunset yellow last for more than a week in a vase. Within the spacious rooms of a castle, such large, sturdy flowers do not appear too clumsy or overbearing. If frosts are late in arriving, there are flowers to pick until November, and by that time, I am already thinking about ordering more seeds for next spring.
But on my mind at the moment are the ‘last cuts’. Last cuts of the season for hedges and areas of rough grass need to be completed before the end of October. This schedule is driven not only by weather, but also by the need to have machinery sent off for winter servicing. Yew and beech hedges are now a little untamed and shaggy in appearance; I am longing for clean-cut lines and sharpness – frosty morning angles and neat ribbons of green. While most of the garden awaits the beginning of the autumn and winter tidy-up, I find newly cut hedges such a positive sight. Every bed or border that is cleared, edge that is straightened, and path that is levelled is immediately echoed and further complemented within the framework of manicured hedges. Even the smallest job seems to reap huge visual rewards once the hedges have been cut.
Temperature and rainfall dictate how late into the year I will be cutting the lawns immediately surrounding the castle. Below and beyond the more formal areas of garden, however, the last cut of longer grass is already in progress. In the woodland, a high cut ensures that seedlings of foxgloves, forget-me-nots, and primroses remain unharmed and free to grow naturally. A ride-on mower is the best machine for the job, but where access is difficult on steep banks and in awkward corners and hollows, the grass will be strimmed as soon as possible. Dry days are too valuable and must be saved for work involving the soil; strimming is a job allocated to days of drizzle and dampness.
Hints of autumn colour are appearing here and there, and a few golden leaves languidly spiral down from two stately, mature lime trees that overlook the gatehouse. Shaded by spreading limbs, the skirts of the limes are still green, but they, too, will turn to gold when the days are even shorter.
First published at 16:35, Tuesday, 09 September 2008
Published by http://www.cumbrialife.co.uk
