Under my maple

Regular visitors must have seen there is something out of the ordinary going on in here. No travel stories, practically nothing but home-related little posts in ages.

I didn’t plan to do so but I have clearly started bidding public farewell to this place I’ve called home for twelve years now gradually turning it into an adorable nest that I love but must let go perhaps already in a few months’ time.

There is one more thing in the garden I absolutely have to pay tribute to. It is the old maple, a most hugable tree and my favourite living thing on our plot. I’ve been praising it before but I want to do that once more while it is still ours. It is such an apt symbol for this little hill surrounded by fields and a delight to look at whatever the season.

It has taken me years to accept that we must give this place up and move on. Now that the garden is almost leafless and I’ve prepared myself to take my leave from the maple even, I suppose my blogging eyes will turn to the house. Whether this amateur’s camera will manage to produce anything presentable with the interior remains to be seen.

One thing is certain. We’ll have to find one fabulous residence where to relocate from here for me to have any chance of driving away without great sadness. At a time like this it is comforting to know I’m an optimist and an adapter by nature.

Multicolours

Of all the trees and bushes with colourful autumn foliage in our garden it is got to be the traditional Midsummer rose (Rosa pimpinellifolia ‘Plena’) that wins in beauty, at least at close range.

This shrub rose if often considered a bit of a nuisance because it spreads so easily that it’s hard to control and is very thorny but not that disease resistant. What’s more, the blooming only lasts for a couple of weeks in early summer.

Nevertheless, if you can take all the pruning, rooting out and insect control you will be rewarded with some fabulous multicoloured foliage. All the brilliant autumn hues from green and yellow to orange and purple will be showing at the same time, sometimes even on a single leaf.

We have some Midsummer roses spreading between the lilacs and the steps to the porch. I also transplanted a few roots at the end of the barn when they had to be moved out of the way once we had a rainwater drainage job done. Their autumn brilliance tends to last longer than that of the other plants. Aren’t I lucky we are still living under the travel ban my man issued almost a year ago? Now I’m able to enjoy the autumn colours in full, unlike most Octobers. The Mediterranean will have to wait.

To see how these roses were in early June click here.

Winter variety

What a difference a week makes. The leaves of the other apple trees have practically fallen by now but those of our only winter variety only just turned yellow.

I will probably not have any apple trees next season, possibly never again, so I must take the most of these decades-old trees while I still can.

We have already had the first night frosts and the dark red winter variety is starting to be mature enough to be collected.

Free uplifting

Now that I am no longer spending my days at an office and can enjoy the scenery in the daytime I have finally learned to appreciate autumn.

Driving the winding roads by the fields in our neighbourhood with patches of forest all around is an uplifting experience even on a grey morning or afternoon.

Your eyes will be drawn to the yellow and orange spots absorbing energy from their brightness. The stripes of colourful foliage gently curving on the sides of the surrounding hills with conifer forest add to your feeling of belonging. Despite everything I could never be completely contented without our contrasting four seasons. The coldest one could be considerably shorter but for the Nordics they are all equally essential.

I’ve only just realized the true value of autumn: every yellow, orange and red leaf conveys the promise of a rebirth. What could be more comforting, more elevating than that?