harvest

Glut!

Be careful what you wish for. Indeed. But one only realises this truism retrospectively. In early spring, I’d admire the blossoms on the trees and wish for a good harvest. Dreamily, I’d imagine making jams and pies and crumbles – all the ways I could enjoy and preserve my fruits.

**The promise of things to come** Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Wandering about the garden, complimenting the trees on their constellations of blossoms; stroking their leaves to show them that I care; I hadn’t quite thought through the consequences of my actions. Yes, like King Charles, I do talk to my trees and perhaps I communicated my desires a little too well this year. Because, this year, to counter the absolute failure of my vegetable crops, my fruit trees have outdone themselves.

A sweet start

The first fruits to appear were the berries: raspberry, mulberry, blackcurrant and redcurrant. Each morning, I’d toddle down the garden to pick what had appeared – some going into the bowl with my cereal and some directly to the freezer.

**Mini mulberries**
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Next up were my sweet plums – early and delicious. I’d serve them instead of biscuits and give them away to anyone who wanted them. So far, so good. I had plenty to freeze and plenty to share. Everything was under control.

Then the freezer began to fill and more and more fruits ripened. Some, like the greengages and alpine strawberries were consumed immediately after picking, but the rest, well, no-one could eat that many.

Apples, apples every where

My fabulous old apple tree clearly liked the wet spring and warm summer, because it has excelled all expectations. Every day I pick the windfalls, and every day there are more.

**Apples and plums** Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

My miniature Russet apples were ripe, so they have been picked and stored in the fruit bowl. Extra apples have been set aside to give to friends. This afternoon, I’ll need to make some apple puree – a perfect baking supplement for those who don’t use eggs. By putting the puree in two tablespoon amounts in small plastic bags and freezing, I shall have enough egg replacements to last the year!

Waste not, want not

As anyone who has read my blog will know, I hate waste. My gorgeous daughter-in-law, Genevieve, gave me the perfect recipe book: PlantYou: Scrappy Cooking. In it, the author shows you how to use up all the scraps that otherwise might make kitchen waste. I was fascinated.

When preparing apples, there are equal quantities of cores and skin as flesh. Even these can be used and only then, the left-overs thrown into the compost. Okay, it is a bit fiddly and time consuming, but I love a challenge and the opportunity to use up everything.

Take these – and make these –

My apple cider vinegar is happily burbling away on the window sill and the apple scrap ‘honey’ is in the fridge. The ‘honey’ is perfect for porridge and yogurt and delicious on toast. It will keep in the fridge for a month, though I suspect it will keep a bit longer than that. And if you don’t want to do it straight away, store a large freezer bag full of scraps in the freezer and make on a rainy afternoon. (Sadly, I made mine on a boiling hot day making myself and the kitchen, very hot indeed. The fridge objected and promptly konked out. Luckily for me, my husband guessed what was wrong and both the fridge and myself cooled down and went back into operation!)

Food for free

Perhaps it is my Celtic ancestry or perhaps it is my innate love of foraging, but there few things that give me more joy than finding food for free. Mariia is clearly similarly inclined. When we came back from the West Country proudly bearing our full punnet of blackberries, she produced the 1.5 kilos that she had picked with Hermione!

But one can never have enough berries and the season is too short to tarry. Our local park has a magnificent and very old mulberry tree. As a consequence, it has the biggest, fattest mulberries around. Determined to get a little bit of its bounty, we all set off one warm summer evening. We returned with another 1.5 kg.

**Putting my mini-mulberries to shame**
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Unfortunately, many park visitors are not aware that they are edible (though I tell everyone that passes) or perhaps they know and don’t want stained clothing. Nothing is entirely free. The price tag for blackberries is scratches; mulberries, purple blooms on stained hands and tops.

Swap

And if you have more than enough of one thing, then barter is the way to go. My book group buddy Lesley was leaving town for a few days, but her plums were ready to pick. In a wonderfully sociable way, she invited us round to harvest them and have a cup of tea.

I brought a basket of apples, and Viv brought some delicious tomatoes fresh from her allotment. Everyone left happy! I made more jam and of course, had to check that it was okay. It was a sacrifice I was prepared to make.

For me, the most wonderful part of having a good harvest is that I can share it. Anyone who comes to the door is likely to leave with a bag of something. And I can make jams and honeys and vinegars to give as tiny gifts too. My great friend Liz, whose apple harvest is even greater than my own, has her apples pressed and gives bottles of her truly delicious juice away. When I took the children to primary school, an elderly chap would leave a wheelbarrow filled with apples outside his house on the route, and many an apple crumble was made from his generosity.

When we have plenty, it makes sense to share it. In fact, the only thing I have had a shortage of is jam jars. I sent a plea to all my friends and now, I hope, I have enough. (And some will be returned filled!)

How do you like your fruit?

This year’s abundance is causing me to think hard about how to utilise and store it successfully. I’ve made crumbles, jams, vinegars and ‘honey’. I’d like to try making pickled blackberries and to attempt drying mulberries. My freezer is full, so I’ll need to think more laterally. I could make apple strings for dried apples, apple butter and if I get more adventurous still, fruit powders.

Nature marches on and there is no time to waste. There are still pears and quinces to harvest, so it will be late autumn when I can put my preserving tools away.

Sometimes, I wonder why I bother. After all, the supermarket stocks everything I need. But where, I ask you, is the fun in that?

Autumn’s Arrival

When I started planning this blog at the beginning of the week, my intention was to take my title from an Emily Dickinson poem, ‘As imperceptibly as Grief – The Summer lapsed away – ‘. At that time, it looked like our extended summer would simply segue into autumn without us scarcely noticing.

My only clue as to the change of season was the arrival of my vibrant, autumn crocus and nodding Japanese anemones. Their appearance is bitter-sweet. While I am cheered by their, ‘See? There is yet time for flowers!’, I am saddened by the knowledge that they are the last arrivals. There will be now more new blooms until spring.

By mid week, autumn was striding on stage in the most dramatic fashion. Our Mediterranean blue skies began to fill with deep charcoal clouds and our evenings were a son et lumier show of lightning and thunder. Long sought after rain came down in torrents, tropically, at night and in bursts throughout the day. Gentle summer breezes were pushed aside by howling winds and my collection of windfall apples was soon outstripping my ability to peel and cook them.

**Apples everywhere**
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Autumn had arrived. The days are still warm and the garden abuzz with pollinators and butterflies, but the light has changed: The crystalline sharpness of July replaced with the buttery yellow of September.

All creatures, great and small, are hurriedly making the most of the harvest and birds flock hither and thither in search of food to eat and store. Our Austrian pine this year has produced a bumper crop of cones. Sitting in my shed, I was puzzled for a while by the soft staccato coming from outside. I couldn’t see anything doing anything, but later, when I went out, I realised what the noise was. Our resident squirrel had been plundering the tree for the fat pine nuts stored inside the cones and dropping the empty shells to the grass. Perhaps the magpies were joining him – they love that tree too.

**The evidence. Empty shell casings.**
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

A few nut casings fell from the pines I had picked for winter decoration and I broke one open to see what it held. Sliding my nail between the shell, I popped out the nut. I thought I would try it. I was rather hoping it would taste like the delicious nuts harvested from the Pinyon pine. Sadly, no. I spat it out. I shall leave them for the squirrels.

I have planted a couple of the seeds, though. They would make the most adorable bonsai. Wish me luck.

**Dark skies** Image: Jack Taylor on Unsplash

Of course, the most dramatic marker of the changing seasons is the night sky. Where not so long ago, we would sit in the garden watching the bats’ aeronautical display at dusk near ten pm, now it is dark by eight.

The shortening days mean winter is on its way, but I savour these evenings of dramatic skies and fierce sunsets. I’m happy also to let the dog out at night and see the moon and stars again. The next full moon is this weekend: moon watchers, take note.

So this splendid summer is over and I grieve a little for its passing. Yet, I am also filled with anticipation for what this autumn holds. After all, as Keats said, it has its music too.

My blogs may be a little shorter for a while as we settle in our Ukrainian guest. She is an absolute delight, but there is much to do to get her settled. Starting a new life requires a lot of paperwork!

Ode to Autumn

As I get older and myself enter my autumn years, I’ve found my affection for this season increasing. It is a subtle time full of muted colour, mellow sunlight and crisp, dry days.

It is tempting to think of autumn as summer’s swan song; a last performance before the chill of winter sets in. Yet, autumn is not an addendum to summer, a nostalgic nod to former, warmer days, but a season in its own right filled with the matured glories of the ending year.

Pumpkins and plenty Image: Timothy Eberly on Unsplash

Until the 16th century and our gradual move from an agrarian to industrial society, autumn was known as harvest. Indeed, in some Germanic languages, it still is.

I think it a more fitting name, for this is the period when the crops are brought in; a time of plenty, even glut. Keats describes it as:

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run
John Keats ‘To Autumn’

Looked at in this way, it is no longer summer’s poor relation, but a period of joyous abundance. Though my garden is less colourful than before, there are still apples and pears to be picked, raspberries on their canes and a second wave of squashes flowering. My black kale is now large enough to crop and my giant sunflowers are growing apace. Across the land, there is a profusion of wild and cultivated crops. Hedgerows are laced with elderberries, blackberries and sloes. The last perfectly timed for making special Christmas gin.

Autumn crocus Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Celebrating autumn

Though autumn technically begins on 22 September with the autumn equinox, I like to think of it as beginning on the 1 September. Though few people decorate to celebrate autumn, I have always liked to – not least because it also marks the beginning of a school year and my students enjoyed the changing environment of my home classroom.

Though I have few students now and need to teach on-line, there is nothing to stop me creating my own autumn display and I encourage you to do the same. There is an abundance of beautiful foliage, seed heads and hardy fruits and vegetables that you can decorate with and of course, those rare, delightful autumn blooms.

Floral tribute to the season Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Bringing nature inside (whatever the season) invariably uplifts us. We do not need to have floristry skills to arrange a bouquet- only a vase. And if our display ends up like a primary school nature table, so what? I like those.

A dear friend in the States always honours every season with elaborate decorations (even when travelling with her job). What appeared, at first, as an adorable idiosyncracy has become a model for living. Making the effort to mark the season in and of itself makes it special. Selecting, picking and arranging flowers and objects makes us focus on their meaning. These little tableaus offer perfect life lessons that we absorb almost unconsciously – and the pleasure of our finished work brings us (and others) joy.

The dying leaf has a poignant beauty Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

I confess that I now follow her lead shamelessly and look forward to the challenge that each new display brings.

Quiet times

The occasional riotous assemblies of Halloween and Bonfire Night aside, autumn is a quiet time, ripe for reflection and contemplation. The gentle melancholy that accompanies the end of summer is more to be enjoyed than shunned. Just as a picture without shadow has no depth, so a year.

And I like the stillness of the season. We have no great expectations. We require nothing of autumn. If it gifts us with a balmy day, we greet it with gratitude. If we are given rain and drear skies, we try not to complain. Autumn helps teach us acceptance – and we are all the better for it.

Tag: harvest