It’s raining again. We’ve had endless days of it. It’s very soggy underfoot. The remnants of tropical storm ‘Sebastien’, born in the Caribbean a couple of weeks ago and energised by its journey east across the Atlantic, have been and gone. So has Halloween, when Finny, our local ghost of an 18th century smuggler, is said to haunt the lane from our seaside village to the cliff top in search of the treacherous accomplices who betrayed him to the local Excise Officers.
The nights are long and inky black at this time of year. There are no streetlights so it’s very spooky when Finny is out on patrol.
Snowy the Fat Cat has gone AWOL, even though the sun’s thin rays poke through the clouds now and then. The goldfinches have gone too, but the resident robin is still about protecting his territory and searching for food.
In the garden, there is much work to be done, and dreams of next year to be had. The clearing work is almost over, and it’s time for a stock take now that clarity and structure have returned.
The secret garden, the stone river, and the terraces are all green and brown as the die-back progresses and the garden goes to rest.
Bulbs! Loads of ‘em. They are being planted everywhere for the massive show of spring colour.
A Chablis grapevine is being planted to take advantage of the south facing terraces. The juiciness and sweet taste of the grapes will be a gardener’s treat next year.
And ratatouille: the veggie boxes at the west end of the garden have been cleared ready to plant aubergines, onions, courgettes, tomatoes and peppers. It’s going to be a feast.
As for now, when the rains break, it’s time to walk the cliff tops to see, if we can, the pair of nesting peregrine falcons. We have kestrels too, and very fat seagulls – Loads of ‘em.
When the storms abate, a walk along the beach to the old harbour stretch the legs. But mostly, it’s time to hunker down and luckily, the local pub on the cliff top named after poor Finny has opened again after a terrible fire and two years of rebuilding.
Old Lady by the Sea 