Always something rather brooding, or melancholy, about the last proper cutting of the lawn, before winter really kicks in, and the ground becomes too heavy underfoot. After that cut, the grass becomes ever lusher, bending slightly at its tips: it'll stay that way until the first cut of spring. Am I allowed to use the word portentous here? It definitely feels like it would be appropriate. It's the last hurrah of the year, for the garden. The peonies will retreat deep into the soil, the apple tree will be denuded - all that remains will be the lush outcrops of the gorse. However, that new fence (at the back) will obviously have a chance to weather in, so it's not all bad.
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