leaves from the apple tree, I threw out the rotting apples squishing underfoot, and I put the still-good apples in a bag to make into pie filling. It was cold but sunny. It was autumn but pleasant.
We don't do pumpkin spice in autumn, by the way. We do apple spice.
Yesterday was the U.S. election results (or was supposed to be), so I had no time for the garden. This morning I went out to rake and separate good from bad applies once again, and this time it seemed actually warm out. I would have stayed out all day if I could.
This evening we celebrated Bonfire Night, which is the Scottish version of Guy Fawkes Day. Benedict Ambrose took the wood I pruned from the apple tree this spring and put some in the BBQ that came along with the house. We sent the BBQ in the middle of the concrete flagstone patio, as far from all the trees as possible. Then, as unseen fireworks fizzed, popped and roared all over our neighbourhood, we enjoyed a lively applewood fire in the BBQ. We also drank two bottles of our new cider and were delighted that this is our best batch yet.
I was very sad to leave Rome, and I thought I would be depressed to be back in dark, dreary and dreich old Scotland. However, this has not been the case at all. Maybe I just needed a good solid month in the Italian sun to enjoy the subtle delights of a Scottish November.
As we are in post-travel quarantine, with government agents calling us up over and over again, we are more grateful for our big garden than ever. As fun and convenient as living in a flat in the historic centre of Rome is, sometimes you really need a garden.
P.S. Does anyone know why Blogger has been so awful to use for the past few months?
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