Wuthering westerlies have sent us scurrying from shed to shed this week, diving out of the heavy showers and whipping wind. The trees are taking a battering too, perfectly illustrating Emily Bronte’s description as the wind bends them in unison to the east.

We’ve let the chickens out into the garden – they’re gorging on fallen apples and unwittingly playing russian roulette as a fresh one thumps to the ground every few minutes.

Visitor numbers are understandably quiet, so we’ve been able to start the grand ‘end-of-season’ clearup. This year we sold out of so many plants that people asked for. The aim for the rest of this year is to clear huge amounts of space inside and out so that I can double or treble our stock of the really popular plants. Hopefully I won’t spend so much time next year saying ‘Sorry, we’ve none left’.

September 4, 2009