change

We are on the cusp of change. It is gradual and inevitable and the birds are the first to tell us. I always associate the beginning of autumn with the crows. Their rasping cawing wakes us - they are extremely vocal - and they sit in the swaying treetops as the wind picks up, flapping away in indignation when it all gets a bit too much. We used to live in a tiny gate~lodge encircled by beech trees in which the rooks nested in their messy high nests. The noisy comings and goings of so many birds provided the soundtrack to those years of our early married life and the birth of our eldest son and so they have an especially fond place in my heart. I think they are calling in the cooler, darker nights, reminding us of smoky wood scented air and falling leaves.

 

Of course the garden is changing as August draws to an end. Most of the colour is gradually fading although the white Japanese anemones and the cornflower blue agapanthus are providing some interest. We are hoping for a kind, dry September. There are still many outdoor jobs to do before we finally retreat indoors. Indeed it is becoming almost too cool to sit out in the evening time, but if we do we sometimes get rewarded with fiery sunsets and rainbows.