I was surprised I got anything done on the plot the other day.
Despite grey skies and intermittent rain, there was a visual feast on show. The fall back into dry pale and fade is well in progress, like the ground is drinking back every ounce of colour that raged through the Summer.
Nasturtiums are running crazy trails through the tired jungle of corn that I can't bear to pull down. The red stalks seem exotic, like polished furniture made from rare wood. The last leaves sound like paper in a restless hand.
Now that there's little to water, the rain catchers are gradually filling up from the skies. A frog emerged from a burrow as a depleted courgette plant was pulled from the ground. Hope he likes that soupy "pond" a few yards away.
And the last potatoes are out of the ground. It always seems so final, so sudden, that everything finishes fruiting. But the raspberries seem to be going on and on. Wonderful that we've been eating them all Summer long without giving them much tending at all. At home, Dahlias brighten up the shady corners of early twilight when I try not to put the light on too soon.
Those gloves can have a bit of a rest soon, I think.