We’re on the cusp of autumn, sure.  And you can tell by morning and evening mists, and the dew that stays on the grass until well into the afternoon.  The foliage by the roadside is showing it too.  I’m really not a fan of autumn, beautiful though it can be, because I’m all too conscious of what comes next: short days, frost and snow, and centrally heated stuffiness.  But carpe diem and all that.  We’re having a striking Indian summer in these parts – a highly respectable 23°in the shade as I write, and quite warm nights.  I was awakened around 3:00 am by wildlife noises from outside.  Unfortunately I didn’t have a torch to hand.  The basket by the front door is doing really rather well: cuttings from Jane’s New Guinea impatiens, plus Unwin’s sapphire trailing lobelias.

It has certainly been the weather for gardening: I have taken seed from various rudbeckias (this year’s Unwin’s Rustic mix has been terrific), and several dozen cuttings: five colours of penstemon, three of potentilla and two of cistus.  Earlier honeysuckle self-layerings have rooted very well in pots, so we’ll get them planted out over the next few days.

The car went in yesterday for its first annual service (a bit late) and for further investigation of the naarsty noise I complained about when it was new.  The mechanic I took for a test drive yesterday reckoned it comes from the gearbox, which would have to be taken out and replaced in toto.  I can’t imagine VW UK agreeing to that without a bit of a fight.  Watch this space.  Meanwhile, I’m bopping about in an over-geared and underpowered 1.6 diesel Golf, which doubles as a peripatetic advertising placard for the local VW dealership.  Competent little car once you get the hang of it, but it has this curious reluctance to change gear by itself.  Must be something to do with that mystery pedal on the left.