‘Where are the songs of spring? Ay, Where are they?’ (Keats, ‘To Autumn’)
Well, we sang them in frigid January, at our wassailing event, to bless the fruit trees and keep the evil spirits at bay. We hung toast from the trees and poured apple juice and cider onto roots.
Did it work? It must have, as the apple trees in the orchard are bursting with fruitfulness now: a stunning variety of size and colour. Bright reds of course; yellow; green and brown, and burnt orange. Autumn seems to have slipped into the garden with a feline stealth, but the claws of winter remain safely sheathed, for now.
At present, in morning sun or afternoon shadows, the orchard is an utterly beguiling sight. And when you walk around you will find the names of all the cultivars written neatly on slates, at the foot of the bushes and the trees. There are so many varieties, with names unfamiliar to Mr Sainsbury. King of Pippins and Merryweather Damson (straight from Tolkien’s Shires); Red Devil, Sunset, Grenadier. The dainty Katy, and my personal favourite: Red Falstaff, as plump and characterful as you’d expect, having a name like that. There are many more for you to find.
It’s not just the apples of course. You can still find ripe sweet brambles throughout the acres of ground, and autumn raspberries hiding in plain sight in the forest garden. There are some pears too, and Pershore plum; a Shropshire prune and a laden quince bush. Greengages too have been delicious. A vine, bunched with grapes, runs along the north wall. An apricot tree can be found against the same wall.
Now, in autumn, is the best time to visit the garden. For anyone who loves to forage, it is a wonderful place. It is always a wonderful place, but the blessing of fruit and produce is an amazing thing. In the old (but newly refurbished) gatehouse there are vegetables and fruit for visitors to come and bag, and take away. We try and take some produce to Empty Kitchens Full Hearts, but there is enough too for volunteers and visitors.
Granton Castle Walled Garden is a very special place, at all times.
In autumn, it is magical.
– Ian Young
