As I write, Mark is just outside picking the last of his grapes. This fruit is certainly not in the luxury class for us. However the imported fruit is now so cheap in the supermarket that I doubt that it has retained its luxury status for many. I almost feel a sense of nostalgia for the days when grapes were primarily a treat for invalids in hospital.

The outside grapes currently being harvested are Albany Surprise. This American hybrid grape is one of the most successful performers in our outdoor conditions. It is a big black juicy grape. The skin is a little tough but that is why it is so successful. If you can keep the birds away (festoons of bird netting here), then the wasps can’t get in to the fruit. But once bird pecked, they will swarm in. Albany Surprise does not require the hot, dry, extended summers of many other varieties which is why we recommend it for residents in our more temperate coastal areas.
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The onset of autumn always makes me think of my mother. She was possibly the only person I have ever met who disliked summer. I can’t recall seeing her on a beach after I was aged about eight. By that time, she used to pack me off in the company of older siblings to catch the bus to the beach. I am sure she thought a beach bunny was a lop-eared creature who lived in the sand dunes. Her lifestyle never encompassed hot chips on the sand, summer barbecues or sitting around under a sun umbrella with a cold drink in hand.

No. My mother was a Serious Gardener and the hot and dry of summer was a constant irritation to her as it inhibited her compulsion to rearrange the plants in her garden and divide her perennials. I think radio cricket commentaries used to be broadcast on the Concert Programme (maybe they still are) and the only time in my life that I can remember my mother using excessively strong language (the f word in fact) was apropos of summer cricket commentaries. I was so shocked I can still remember it many years on. I think the cricket became inextricably bound up with her boredom and frustration on summer afternoons.
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Good gardening is a combination of design and plants.

In times past, design often took the back seat to plants. The classic Kiwi garden was typically a bungalow set in the middle of a quarter acre section with narrow borders around the house and wider informal borders around the perimeters. These perimeter borders were often sculpted in the Kiwi hosepipe style – snaking the hose around to create “natural curves”. Large lawns were regarded as necessary – space for children to play cricket, a trampoline, basketball hoop and barbecue. In short, they were utility gardens. Some readers may well still have gardens of this design and type.
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I have been looking at autumn flowers. Some are simply the carryover from summer (the roses, hydrangeas and perennials) and they can look a little tired by this time. But the autumn flowering bulbs are fresh and delightful. I love bulbs. Because most are deciduous (in other words, disappearing completely when they go dormant), their seasonal appearance is like a surprise each year.

As a general rule, we are more successful with bulbs which are described as winter rainfall types. This is true of most of the west coast of New Zealand because we get plenty of winter rainfall. Winter dormant bulbs come from areas with dry and usually cold winters and they can simply rot out in our mild and wet winters.
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Summer seems to have beaten too hasty a retreat this year. What happened to glorious hot February weather, drifting imperceptibly into March’s cooler evenings and so to the gradual slide into a late autumn? No, it seems that February turned its back on summer and boldly declared that autumn was here.

Which is to say that the belladonna lilies are in full bloom along our road verge, the dwarf species cyclamen hederafolium are in full flower (looking particularly pretty where they are nestled into black mondo grass) and the nerines are opening.
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