CLOCKING BACK AND HEFTING

Here we go into British Winter Time and the clocks go back and hour. It is lighter in the mornings but darker in the afternoon.

The aunties are cycling in from the Atlantic again and low pressure dominates driven on westerlies. This means leaf stripping winds and rain.

This means collecting the stuff and ramming it into builders' sacks to rot down to leaf mould. In the barrow you can see two planks of plywood.

M. Don, he of gardening advice, suggested this a while back as a good way to pick up leaves and it works. Sandwich the leaves between them and carry them to the barrow.

And the heron has returned to the pond.

And we are at 23 grey squirrels caught this year.



The attempt to use a central stake and ties to support the Sedum spectabile failed miserably and it is suffering from a bad dose of sprawl.
I will try something else next year.

When the sun shines the garden does look good.

I have checked all the ties on the new white birches but the list of things to do grows ever longer. Knee may have to wait for garden - at least for a bit.

R has been at the asparagus bed and cut back the dying stems and then weeding. I have put a 4 inch (10 cm) layer of very well rotted horse manure all over it. I have also turned the more mature compost heap.

The remaining rhubarb leaves and stems have been removed and I think I will need to divide one or two of the older plants - replant them after division - and then leave for a year to get settled before harvesting.

Now for some more autumn leaf colour from the garden. In the outer world the woods are really getting hued up now. 


The azaleas - rhododendron lutea - is especially good as you can see with these red tints.

So today R and I went to the Wool Gathering at Kendal where all sorts of spinning and weaving and things were happening. Some fantastically coloured dyed skeins - but many a bit pricey.
Our local sheep - the Herdwick - native to the Lake District have a rather rough wool. Mind you they need it, wintering in the mountains.
When I was a boy I lived on a hill farm and we had a hefted flock of almost 1000. (Hefted not hefty - means they will return to their home patch etc  etc.)
We once sent our pet lamb (reared by hand and bottle) to market 14 miles away when it got too big, but it escaped from the Auction Mart and, in due time, turned up back on the farm! It did not escape the next time.

Actually I like to come home - suppose I am a bit hefted too (and hefty I hear the cry!)