The Times They Are A'Changing

It seems that November is the most depressing month of the year for a great many people. As soon as the clocks go back, away from British Summer Time, and the days start to get perceptably shorter, it seems that gloom sets in. In one of his brilliant medical research programmes for TV, Michael Mosely investigates this situation. He starts from his own reaction to November, and his recent diagnosis of mild SAD. "I'm aware that I become more introspective," he records. Well Michael, I think that's a very natural response to the approaching long nights and short days of winter when time slows down and outdoor activities become more limited. From time immemorial our foreparents must have experienced this. It's part of the natural cycle when the cold and the dark force us indoors, and inside our heads. I think we should take advantage of this opportunity to become more introspective, and take stock, recharge our batteries or at least let them run down. Distracting ourselves with bright lights and constant entertainment goes against the grain. I'm exhilarated by the onset of autumn, not just the changing colours but the sense of the world getting ready to hibernate before emerging rejuvenated in the spring. It's a time of joy for me, a sense of pure, calm happiness. I sympathise with those who don't share this feeling, who struggle with depression at this time of year. But I wonder if they are fighting against what is natural, and fear it instead of embracing it. Just saying.

The little bird who flew into my pill dish last week, recovering outside on the doormat

The garden is getting ready to sleep the winter away, and most of the necessary jobs have been done. Yesterday I cut down the dahlias and dug up the tubers to store in a warm place for the winter. Normally I would wait for the first frosts to cut them down and blacken the foliage beforte lifting them, but a friend scoffed at this idea at the weekend. "You could wait until February for that to happen," she laughed. Well, erm, yes, though usually not that long. But her gardener has lifted and stored all of hers already, as usual, and this early disturbance apparently does them no harm. You live and learn.

Sweetly scented winter flowers

I seem to have ended up with an awful lot of viburnams, especially the winter-flowering kind, and already these are bestowing their welcome beauty on the garden. I might have ten, though I haven't counted them. The big one in the front garden is really lovely, the scent from the blooms wafting a long way in all directions. Yesterday I watched a pair of cyclists go past, then stop and come back to find the source of the smell. They stood beside the shrub for several minutes inhaling with pleasure, something I do myself every time I go near. The helebores are flowering too, and the mildish weather has brought new deep pink blooms on the small carnation behind the pond, and a new growth of anenomies, fuschias and roses. It's all very cheering, and there's no sign of the fat lady getting her last song ready yet. Long may this display of loveliness last.