Along came the frost and wiped the tenders out. To be fair the dahlias have not been looking their best in the past few weeks anyway. There was a hard frost on Tuesday followed by less severe frosts over the last couple of days.
A pale peach light is suffusing the fog as the sun rises, the skeletons of the trees standing dark against their misty backdrop, the underlying structures emerging from the depleting leaf cover. The huge elegantly sinuous bird cherry has been good value, its red leaves have added drama to the gardenscape. Now the last leaves hang browned and sullen, one by one letting go and drifting to the ground.
Listening to Mary Anne Hobbs on 6 Music and strangely The Doors Break on Through has just come on although not quite “You know the day destroys the night. Night divides the day” it’s slightly apposite, even though the day has already gone over the cusp.
The sun is now higher, washing the pony field with corridors of light. The shaggy tribe have just squelched past in single file to seek out the sun where they’ll stand facing east, wisps of steam rising from their coats.