The mornings have turned crisp now, and there’s that familiar bite in the air that tells me winter’s not far off. Bandit doesn’t seem to mind—he still bounds out the door each day like it’s his first time seeing the paddock. For me though, it’s the time of year when I find myself slowing down a bit, noticing what’s holding on in the garden and what’s settling in for a rest.
Right now, the veg patch is ticking along quietly. The silverbeet’s been a real trooper—still putting out big, healthy leaves that go straight into omelettes or a quick stir-fry. Our kale’s a bit chewed up thanks to the cabbage moths, but I reckon if it’s good enough for them, it’s probably worth eating. The broccoli’s just starting to head up, and I always get a bit excited when I spot those tight little clusters forming. They’re not perfect, but they’re ours.
Garlic went in back in April, and the shoots are standing tall now, green and straight like little soldiers. I love how patient garlic is. It just gets on with the job under the surface while everything else comes and goes.
We’ve still got some late-season capsicums hanging on in the greenhouse. They’ve been slow this year—probably because I forgot to feed them when I should’ve—but they’re ripening now, one by one. I always feel a bit chuffed picking capsicums in June.
The herbs have taken on their usual winter personalities. The parsley’s powering on, of course—it always does. Coriander’s finally happy now the heat’s gone, and I’ve got a bit of thyme and rosemary close to the kitchen door. Nothing fancy, but it’s enough to bring a bit of flavour to our winter stews.
It’s not the busiest season in the garden, but that’s alright. This time of year reminds me that not everything has to be full tilt. There’s something satisfying about letting the garden rest a little, and just keeping an eye on what’s quietly growing.
So that’s what’s happening here. Nothing grand—just the steady, familiar rhythm of the land. And honestly, that suits me just fine.