Transfixed by a colour show when rain stops

MY hopes that the garden would continue to sizzle right up until Halloween have been dampened by a series of heavy downpours.

Some of the seed heads that I’d intended to leave standing until February are already looking pretty dismal and others have been flattened.

There’s no point in hanging on to anything that’s face-down in the borders, so between showers I’ve been pulling out damp stalks and lifting foliage that has started to rot.

It would be a miserable task if the sun didn’t sometimes appear through the clouds and, for a short time at least, the vibrant stems and bright hues of autumn leaves transform the scene from grim to glorious. It’s then, when I should be making the most of the break in the rain, that I find myself stopping to enjoy the colours.

I’m besotted by berries, from the reds and yellows of rowans to the black beads that appear once the yellow petals on the hypericum have fallen.

Close up, yew berries appear pink, not red, and their matt surface makes quite a contrast to the glossy finish on the hollies.

Bigger than berries, the fruits of crab apples and Japanese quinces both cling to the branches well into autumn and, on the other side of the fence, sloes, hawthorn and elderberries make rich pickings for the birds.

I visited a garden last week where proper quince trees, the sort that are the source of the membrillo jelly that the Spanish like to eat with their cheese, had been planted along the hedges and their branches were weighted down with fruits so heavy that windfalls threatened to inflict serious damage on anyone standing under the trees when

they dropped. The same garden is also home to an Indian bean tree and its great, heart-shaped leaves had turned golden yellow.

The cherry trees that grow in gardens along our street have turned shades of scarlet and crimson and the rowans too are putting on a dazzling show.

It’s at this time that I regret not being able to grow Japanese maples. I don’t have a sheltered spot where their delicate leaves wouldn’t be either desiccated by wind or scorched by sun and all my attempts to nurture them have ended in failure.

However, I might have an alternative. The Stag’s Horn Sumach (Rhus typhinia) is a tough character. It is native to North America and can cope with almost anything the weather throws at it, just so long as it is planted in full sun.

Its colours in autumn are dazzling and the tree itself has a lovely branching habit.

Some gardeners consider it a nuisance because it does produce suckers that can pop up in unexpected places, but my definition of a nuisance plant is one that won’t grow.

I would much prefer to have a thug in the garden than a fragile specimen that curls up its roots at the first hint of weather.