It's that moment of the year when the garden begins to retreat and now it's becoming all about the view instead.
It could feel a bit melancholic but there's a richness and beauty about late October that I just can't get enough of. I'm lucky that I adore all the seasons and don't mind the slide into winter one bit. The drama of fierce weather and wildlife visitors will soon be here.
There's s solitary dahlia left flowering in my old dolly tub but instead of flowers now there's foliage setting the garden ablaze. The leaves of the perennial sunflower are shining as brightly as the flowers did throughout September and the ivy that cloaks our fence is one of those variegated varieties that glows on a gloomy day.
A few late bees are making the most of the nectar bar that the traditional green ivy hosts and I've seen a tiny wren flitting in and out making a shelter for winter. Geese are flying into the valley again and I'm really enjoying seeing the songbirds flocking back into the garden.
Everything leans now, lots of plants with elegant seedheads I'll leave standing, however lopsidedly, to catch the frosts and give another show. After Bonfire Night I'll tidy away the spent fireworks and have a look at what is really past its best in the border. Structure, where I have it is, good but soggy, raggy, blackened hankies of leaves, rotting on the stems, look quite sad so they'll come out and feed the compost heap.
The hawthorn hedge is looking ragged now and the rowan tree is already stripped of it's fruit and bare of leaves. Now we can see across the fields to the farm and the russet beech wood that calls to us to explore again before winter steals all colour.
I've still got tulip bulbs to plant but narcissi, crocus and miniature iris are already snug in their pots. I garden very little in the winter months, our patch is so small there's not all that much to do other than feed the birds. So I'll enjoy this last blaze of colour until it's time to say goodby for now to the garden and thank you for a glorious year x