There's an afternoon in early October when the garden seems to pause. The last cosmos is still flowering, apples are dropping, and the light has that low golden quality that says the season is turning. It's tempting to retreat indoors. Resist it. The work you do over the next six weeks shapes how the garden looks next year — and most of it is far easier now than it will be in February. The soil is still warm, so roots establish quickly, and the autumn rain does the watering for you.
Leaves are the great autumn task, and worth doing properly. A thick layer left on a lawn smothers the grass and encourages moss; heaps around the crowns of perennials harbour slugs and rot; on paths they turn slippery after the first rain.
Pick a dry day. A rake works well on lawns, while a besom broom is better for gravel and paving, where a plastic rake drags the surface about. Don't simply bag them up for the tip — fallen leaves make leaf mould, one of the best soil conditioners you can get for nothing. Fill a bin bag or wire cage with damp leaves, punch a few holes for air, and leave it in a quiet corner. Oak, beech and hornbeam break down reasonably quickly; sycamore takes longer. In a year or two you'll have dark, crumbly material to dig into borders or spread as mulch.
A word of caution: keep leaves from roses with blackspot, and any diseased foliage, out of the compost heap. Bag those separately for the garden waste collection.
Bare soil is vulnerable soil. Winter rain pounds the surface, washing away nutrients and turning heavy clay into a sticky, airless pan. A generous mulch is the simplest defence you can give it.
Wait until the ground is damp but not waterlogged, usually from mid-October. Spread well-rotted manure, garden compost or leaf mould over the surface to a depth of about 5–8cm. Don't dig it in; let the worms do the work over winter. Keep it clear of stems, crowns and trunks — piling mulch against the neck of a perennial or the base of a shrub causes rot. Leave a small gap, as though the plant were sitting in a shallow saucer.
On clay, fork over empty beds and leave the surface rough. Frost will break down the clods and give you a far easier tilth in spring.
Nothing lifts a February morning like the first snowdrops, and the bulbs that produce them need to go in now. As a rule, plant each bulb at roughly three times its own depth and space them about twice their width apart.
Daffodils and narcissi are best in by the end of September, while the soil is still warm. Tulips are the exception: they prefer a cold start and are less prone to disease if planted in November. Crocus, muscari, alliums and snowdrops can all go in through October.
For a natural look, scatter a handful across the border and plant them where they land rather than in tidy rows. In lawns, use a bulb planter, lift a small flap of turf, and press it back afterwards. Mark the spot with a few short canes so you don't slice through it with a spade later. Squirrels are persistent thieves, so a layer of chicken wire over the planting area helps.
Give the lawn its final cut on a dry day, raising the mower blades a notch so you don't scalp it going into winter. Rake out thatch and dead moss, spike compacted areas with a fork, and apply an autumn feed low in nitrogen but higher in potassium and phosphorus — this strengthens roots rather than pushing soft growth that frost will damage.
Raise containers onto bricks or pot feet so they don't stand in water, and wrap terracotta in bubble wrap or hessian if hard frosts are forecast. Move tender plants under cover before the first cold snap, and lift dahlias, begonias and gladioli after the foliage has been blackened by frost, drying the tubers before storing them in a cool, dark place.
Work steadily rather than in one exhausting weekend. An hour here and there through October will see the job done, and there's real pleasure in it — the smell of damp earth, the rustle of leaves, the sense of putting something to bed.
Watch the forecast and mulch before the ground becomes too wet to work. Clear leaves little and often rather than letting them build into a soggy mat. And when the last bulb is in and the beds are tucked up, make yourself that cup of tea. The garden has earned it, and so have you.
Open windows, freshen linens and arrange daffodils on the table. Small rituals mark the season and lift household spirits.
I must explain to you how all this mistaken idea of denouncing pleasure and praising pain was born and I will give you a complete account of the system
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I must explain to you how all this mistaken idea of denouncing pleasure and praising pain was born and I will give you a complete account of the system
Reply
I must explain to you how all this mistaken idea of denouncing pleasure and praising pain was born and I will give you a complete account of the system
Reply
I must explain to you how all this mistaken idea of denouncing pleasure and praising pain was born and I will give you a complete account of the system
Reply
September offers warm light and early apples. Visit a local orchard, bake crumbles and begin storing root vegetables for cooler months.
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