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AUTUMNAL BLISS | Or 10 reasons to fall in love with fall

It gets stronger every year, my love for autumn.

Autumn sometimes seems to pounce, all dark and gloomy, forcing us to put the flip-flops in the cupboard and ending long balmy days. Even if the first autumn storms whistle around the house, trees shed their leaves, and it gets chilly and a little more uninviting outside – this time of year has its very own magic. Right then, it's finally time for those special moments of happiness that only autumn can bring.

Colourful, mystical, a little quieter, relaxed and packed full of joyful 'hygge' (as the Danes say).

May I present: My ten very own moments of autumnal happiness.

1. The first candle

I ban all candlelight in the house from April to September. Why? Because there is nothing more exciting than being allowed to light the first candle when it's dusky and foggy outside.

I often treat myself to a new candle. Throw in a sprig of rosehip, a few apples and chestnuts for decoration and you have a beautiful fall scene.

I even love the sulfuric smell of the matches. And there just isn't anything better than watching a flame dance merrily and that very special atmosphere only candlelight can bring.

2. Fields of dahlias

You may have to take a little road trip to find one near you, but a day spent in a dahlia field (and going home with armfuls of the beauties) is almost as obligatory as hayrides and pumpkin picking.

A sea of bright colours, wherever I look: Pink, purple, yellow, red, orange and everything in between. Striped, monochrome, multicoloured – and then a bright blue autumn sky above. The 'Queen of Autumn' blooms from late summer until the first frost. I'm so spoilt for choice I don't even know where to start.

3. The first fire of the season

Similar to the candle, it's become a ritual in our house we celebrate.

Carry in the wood. Remove small insects (preferably BEFORE carrying logs in), make a pretty pile or throw in a log basket. Light a match and watch. Better than anything on TV. And that's even the 19- and 17-year-old in the house, who (temporarily) put down their smartphones for this special moment.

4. The first baked pumpkin

My absolute favourite recipe is wonderful as a main course but equally perfect as a side dish. Super-simple and incredibly delicious.

Ingredients:

1 Hokkaido-Pumpkin
A handful of grapes
A thumb-size piece of ginger
Garlic (as this very much depends on individual tastes, I'll leave the amount up to you. I use at least 8 cloves)
100 ml Olive oil
100 ml Orange juice
Salt
Pepper
Ground cloves
A couple of pinches of cinnamon

Preheat the oven to 200 degrees. Cut pumpkin into quarters, remove the seeds and cut it (unpeeled) into thick slices or half moons (approx. 1cm).

Mix the pumpkin in a bowl with olive oil, orange juice, grated ginger, finely chopped garlic, salt, pepper and spices.

Place the pumpkin on a baking tray, ideally in a single layer. Place in the oven and bake for approx. 40 – 50 minutes until nicely roasted and soft. Spread the grapes over the pumpkin for the last 10 minutes.

Optionally, you can also sprinkle some feta on the pumpkin together with the grapes.

5. The first hot chocolate

I'm not a great friend of warm milk. Even as a small child, just the thought of it caused a mild to moderate gag reflex. And don't get me started on the risk of skin on the top! Sorry if that was too much information...

BUT. Big but.

A hot chocolate when autumn starts is a MUST. With foam. And mini marshmallows. And no ready-made mixes. Nonono, it has to be real, proper cocoa. And then a little sugar.

6. Hot water bottle on the sofa

And then you take your hot chocolate, sit down on the sofa in front of the stove, stare at the fire and put your feet on the hot water bottle. If available, add a cat or dog. And a book! Now relax.

7. Even orange, yellow and red are allowed!

If you know me a little by now, you know that my garden is usually a sea of white, blush, purple, pink and blue. But in autumn, anything goes, and it's not just the leaves on the trees that are bursting with colour. Suddenly, shades of red move in with the rose hips and crabapples, orange dahlias mix merrily with purple asters and the yellow flowers of the Jerusalem artichoke (which I don't seem to be able to get rid of anyway) tower over the Cottage Garden. Yellow quinces, orange and red leaves. Who'd have thought it, but I think it's just glorious. And all these bright colours make the last of the autumn sunshine feel even brighter.

8. Re-discovering your winter wardrobe

It's like going shopping. Only cheaper and at home. Goodbye floaty summer dresses and bikinis – see you next year! Enter stage left: Thick woolly jumpers, warm socks, scarves and hats. New combinations, new looks.

9. Sending the lawn mower into hibernation

I have to admit, I love the smell of a freshly mown lawn. I don't love the lawnmower quite as much. In the garage, an eternal reminder of what urgently needs to be done and nobody wants to do. Push the noisy beast around the garden, preferably in neat stripes. Try to get close to the edges, or you'll have to trim them by hand.

Before I get started, I collect little snails from tall grass and check for frogs. I can't bear to squash either! Dog owners may need to keep a beady eye out for other potential 'hazards'. You don't want those between your blades. Tangled up little branches, chopped grass all over my feet and legs, I'm sweating, I want it to be over but there are only a few laps left, you can do it Sarah, almost done..

It's over. It.Is.Over. The lawnmower, which I treat with affection – yes, despite everything we have an intimate relationship, we are united in our shared endeavour and pride in the work we have done – is taking a heard-earned a break. I put it away in the far corner of the garage and say goodbye for the winter break. Without a guilty conscience. And somehow relieved.

10. Revel in memories of the year in the garden

I have an obsession with stationery, particularly notebooks. So, I sit down and think back over the last months. What were my favourites this year? Who were my 'problem children'? What should I do differently: Move plants to better locations, fill a gap here and there or thin out overcrowded beds? What would I like to have more of?

Then, I sit down on the sofa inside (see point 6) and write down my thoughts. I re-read my notes from previous years, flick through gardening books and look forward to next year.