I have always loved autumn, crisp fresh mornings, plenty of juicy apples, hot apple tart, pots of homemade jam. September can be a beautiful or horrible month here; today is fantastic.
The weather in Ireland is very changeable. In one day we could have all four seasons. Today the sun is bright and hot enough for me to work outside in a sleeveless top. Above, not a cloud hides the clear blue sky. Birds in and out of the garden, food everywhere to feed their now nearly fully-grown chicks, Fluttering from flower to flower. The last of the butterflies seem unconcerned that autumn has come.
I find that working in the garden is a great way of forgetting all other worries, with the added satisfaction of a garden tidy for winter. So this morning I was out as usual digging and pulling, cutting and planting. I have my bulbs planted and tender plants protected from the frosts. This year winter pansies in purples and blues will brighten my deck in the darker days ahead. I intend to add some yellow chrysanthemums as well. Two apple trees bend with cooking and eating apples, many eaten by my son as they grew, but plenty more for the taking.
Pink is the predominant colour in my garden right now. Sedum and Chrysanthemums fill their allotted space with large blocks of colour. The Michalmas Daisies are buzzing with busy bees, while impatiens and cyclamen hug the ground. A tall pink gladiola stands alone like a soldier as no breeze is there to stir it.
This year we did not get picking Bramble Blackberries on the local hillside. Usually I make lots of pots, which last no length at all. There is nothing like the wonderful taste of fresh bread smothered in homemade blackberry jam. But apple pie will help the family overlook the missing jam, I hope.
After lunch I see Elderberry trees laden with their glistening black, tiny berries as I walked to the seafront. A fat black bird and a thrush shared the bounty. I live just about 5minutes walk from the irish sea, and on this sunny autumn day lots of people are making the most of the glorious weather. Children run along the beach, shoes off, kicking
in the water. An elderly couple sit eating ice-cream cones, watching a dog retrieve a stick from the waves time and time again. Her mistress gets splashed each time the dog returned, shaking his shiny black coat dry.
But it’s not summer anymore. The sun had gone but it was still bright and fairly warm as we entered our local chinese restaurant at 8.30pm. However as we made our way to the car after dinner it was so cold I was shivering in my turtle neck top and cotton long sleeved cardigan. Oh, autumn is here in Ireland for sure!
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Frances's garden |
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Frances O'Sullivan |
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Profile;
I am 43, born Frances Murphy in Co. Wicklow Ireland in 1957. The eldest child in a family of 6 girls and 1 boy. I had a happy childhood with little money to spare. I never really liked school and started to work at 15. Because I had always liked sewing and crafts I got a job
in a clothing factory and was a dress cutter for many years.
I married Kevin O Sullivan on the 3rd March 1979 we were the first in either family to buy our own home, it was a great achievement for us at the time.
We lost our first son Aidan at age 5 weeks; he was born at 32 weeks and did not manage to survive. This was painful but the following year Dearbhail was born and Eoin followed 4 years later in 1986.
He was only a tiny baby when I went to the doctor with a bad chest infection and mentioned my stiff hand. That was it, it only took 5 months for a definitive diagnosis of PD to be declared. So here I am to day.
