As I left the house early to go for my morning run, something immediately struck me. It wasn’t the grey sky or the drizzly rain, but the air itself had a feel of autumn. We’ve just entered the golden month, the month when bountiful harvests fill fridges, freezers and pile up on dinner tables. Meanwhile, the burnt oranges and yellows of summer’s late floral arrivals are happily holding court in the garden; heleniums, sunflowers and rudbeckias all vying for our attention. 

But autumn? I don’t remember seeing the invite for this brooding guest, yet here he was.  

I’m still hopeful for that last burst of summer to finish tanning my squashes, ripen my tomatoes and bake my beetroot. 

But if this is the change, I really can’t complain. The allotment has done me proud this year, stretching my knowledge and filling my tummy. And the goods are still coming. Last night I harvested the first corn on the cob, and before Soph got home, I’d boiled it, eaten it and hidden the evidence.

Think I got away with it. 😉