Between Summer and Autumn

Watching the Chilterns change, one hedgerow at a time

There’s a shift in the air. Not enough to send you reaching for a jumper just yet, but enough to make you notice the light is altering. It falls more softly now. Its impact is rich and golden. It knows it’s changing gear and preparing for the next stage.

Walking down our lane (slowly, wrist in plaster, dignity intact), I’ve been surprised by how much there is to see. The hazelnuts are fattening on the trees, their bright, papery husks curling back to reveal the tightly packed kernels within. The blackberries are in abundance, sprawling in tangles that seem to have doubled overnight. Their colours range from dusty pink to that deep, inky purple that leaves its mark on your fingertips and your clothes if you’re careless. I’d love to say that these blackberries only live on the lane, but no, the brambles have invaded a corner of our garden, offering sweet, juicy fruit as a reward.

In the branches above the fence, the hawthorn berries are already red, like little rubies strung along the edges of the garden. They overhang from the lane, swaying gently when the breeze picks up, and reminding me daily that summer is coming to an end.

A season of gold

It’s the light, more than anything, that’s noticeable. Golden sunshine pouring over fields where the earth is parched and cracked from weeks of heat. Even the grass in our garden, which sprang back to life after just a week of showers, now crunches underfoot. There’s definitely a beauty to it, though. The lazy, dusty paths and the heat rising up to greet you.

If I were my usual self, I’d be tempted by longer walks, up through the beech woods, across the chalk paths, down to the hidden valleys where the shadows are starting to deepen. But with one arm out of action, those moments will have to wait. Instead, I’ve been focussing on what is right in front of me.

Harvest time

Our local farm shop is already selling the first of the season’s apples - Discovery, with their crisp bite and faint strawberry scent. The tomatoes are sweeter now and the mushrooms are plentiful. There’s something satisfying about thinking of recipes to use all this produce.

The countryside feels full and abundant. Many local farmers got the harvest in before August even began and the large rolls of hay are dotting the landscape, waiting for collection. We’re not quite at the mist stage yet, but the fruitfulness is everywhere you look, and I’ve noticed that the spiders have stepped up their labours. At the moment they are small, industrious and happy to go about their business outside. It won’t be long before we see them scuttling across the dining room. On a quest for who knows what.

Small worlds close to home

The bees are also still hard at work, weaving between the lavender and the last of the cosmos. A small family of robins has been making a daily appearance, chattering in the ivy on the fence, before launching into a slightly chaotic flight towards the fountain, where they are too small to bend in and drink, like the pigeons, but enjoy the splashes as the water trickles down.

The evenings have that late summer richness. I’ve taken to sitting outside with a mug of chamomile tea in the late sun, watching the sky change colour, the birds flying back and forth before they go to roost in the large ash tree above our garden. And the delight of sitting still enough to see the first bats swoop across me.

It feels less busy this year for obvious reasons, as though I was meant to slow down anyway. My injury is forcing me to take the time and not hurry.

I’m always looking ahead, to the next outing, the next season, the next adventure. I’m the worst patient ever, because I don’t like sitting still, recovering slowly, or indeed asking for much help. So, this enforced pause has me looking right in front of me instead and trying to literally take each day at a time, noticing and appreciating things more. I hope as things heal, I can stay focussed on these small things around me and enjoy them to the full.

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