Potting and propagating houseplants is one of my favourite non-writing activities. I find great satisfaction in a row of cuttings in water gently putting out roots, or a new sprout freshly buried in dark, damp compost that clings to my fingertips as I work.
October always feels very primal and pagan to me, a time to gather your people close by the fire. Here’s how I like to enjoy the darker months.
Now I’ve got some time on my hands and a serious carb requirement (third trimester!), I’ve been getting into making simple, delicious soda bread
A little diary of our exploits in New York, from the cafes of the Lower East Side to Yankee Stadium. Plus some top tips for the travelling pregnant woman!
October has flown by, and wasn’t it beautiful? Every day was another of those clear, bright, autumnal days that so often get obscured by low clouds, heavy with rain. All over our patch of Surrey the trees have put on a firework display with their changing leaves, vibrant splashes of green, yellow, orange, gold, and finally astonishing shades of red. The garden has been slowly giving up its final yields of plums, then apples, and finally a beautiful giant pumpkin, just in time for Hallowe’en. Those bright, sharp days, and dark, moody evenings where we huddle in doors and tell scary stories are everything about this time of year. This is a time of fire, and spirits; ancient, powerful, and hugely evocative.
The first red autumnal leaves have started to appear in our garden. The oak trees that overlook the railway cutting are just starting to change, one leaf at a time turning to vivid red. And every now and again, the air has that slight chill, a crispy twang to remind you that something colder, and darker, is just around the corner. (We’ll ignore the part where the UK had the hottest September ever).
Last autumn was a whirlwind of moving house, travelling in California, jet lag, and unpacking boxes. This year I want to slow everything down and make some simpler plans…