NO .... NO .... November!

Well, we’ve finally had to admit defeat and accept that summer has finished. September and October were so very mild, in fact surprisingly warm, and we were often able to sit and sun ourselves with our after-lunch coffees. The sun cream came into use again after a washed-out August, and John even had to bring out his trusty old panama to protect his thinning barnet.

Then last weekend our own measure of the season’s end took place. Our moving scenery, in the form of a herd of gradually fattening cattle, suddenly disappeared from the field beyond the paddock. We hoped we were mistaken, and that they were busy chewing the cud in an area of pasture which we couldn’t see from our garden, but as the days have gone by without sight of them, we have had to accept that they are probably by now vacuum-packed joints in a local supermarket. We miss them so much – they have been part of our lives since the end of April when they arrived as frisky young beasts, excitedly exploring their beautiful new surroundings from where on a clear day, it is possible to see Glastonbury Tor (not that they would have been fussed about that!)

The farmer obviously knew a thing or two, for no sooner had he sent his cattle to market, than the rains came. And how! We have been lashed by severely wet weather, and very high winds, and for good measure had a most spectacular electric storm one evening, which lit the whole sky with far more brilliance than we saw on Fireworks Night. As a result the cattle-less field has become very waterlogged, and we can see the puddles gleaming in the sunshine which dares to peek out between great downpourings of rain. Not that any of this is really surprising – the area is part of the Somerset Levels, and indeed it seems that the name ‘Somerset’ itself means ‘land of the summer people’, the flatlands presumably always having been decidedly soggy in winter.

The few remaining flowers in the garden have given up the fight and are sprawled untidily everywhere, awaiting a decent dry spell when I can get out and tackle them. The trees are fast losing their truly magnificent autumn colours, the leaves being blasted by the wind and rain.

The last roses of summer.


Roll on Christmas ! ..........