The Endsleigh Gardener
Autumn 2025

Earthy, spicy, smoky, woody & very evocative

Ben Ruscombe-King
The Endsleigh Gardener

It is easy at this time of year to retreat from the great outdoors, to hunker down in the warmth and witness the world through the window. The sun sits lower in the sky, its warmth is felt less energetically and daylight is suddenly a scarcer resource. It is that bit more of an effort to venture out: one must choose one’s attire carefully and risk wind and rain but for those who can overcome these minor inconveniences, autumn, to my mind, offers the most intense of seasonal experiences. Luckily, as a gardener, I am forced to confront the vagaries of an English autumn and am rewarded with an extraordinary swansong to the year. As I write, blusterous winds swirl autumn leaves around the dell, trees sway, clouds dart across the sky, sharp showers are interspersed with intense bouts of sunshine and as the sun catches the leaves of the Acer, Ginkgo, Enkianthus and Liriodendron, the garden is suddenly ablaze. A walk through the garden elicits the satisfying crunch of leaves underfoot and the quality of sound is somehow different from the rest of the year as Repton’s soundtrack of rills, streams, cascades and waterfalls resonates across the valley. The scent of autumn is also quite particular, perhaps more of an aroma: earthy, spicy, smoky, woody and very evocative. Hints of toffee apple, from decaying Cercidiphyllum japonicum leaves, float through the air summoning up bonfire nights and autumn fairs. It occurs to me that rather than being forced to witness this feast for the senses because of being a gardener, it may be that the witnessing of such scenes is what forced me to become a gardener in the first place.

Colour is everywhere, though more restrained than earlier in the year. Rhododendron luteum and Knapp Hill hybrids, renowned for their flower colour in spring, now have leaves equally spectacular and somehow more admirable for their lack of showiness. Taxodium distichum are now changing colour and, though a rather dull brown under overcast skies, when the autumn sun shines, they flare russet orange, a sight guaranteed to stop one in one’s tracks. Liquidambar, Nyssa, Hammamellis, Fothergilla and Parrotia all add various shades of red, orange, yellow, pink and purple and a bumper crop of acorns, conkers, chestnuts, hips, haws and berries adds to the general fecundity of the scene.

In the borders, there is still plenty to enjoy, whilst Silphium dominates with its two metre tall yellow flowers, lavender Asters and ruddy Sedum (Symphiotrichum and Hylotelephium as they are now known) still shine out amongst the skeletons of the summer flowers. Liriope, Persicaria and Anemones are still going strong and Salvia and Ceratostigma add little pops of the elusive true blue. Dahlia ‘Chat Noir’, Tagetes ‘Cinnabar’ and Tithonia ‘Fiesta del Sol’ offer warmer tones closer to the house and Salvia horminium and Ricinus communis have been flowering in the parterre since June and will get another week or two before being unceremoniously ripped out and replaced with thousands of wallflowers and tulips.

This has been a spectacular autumn at Endsleigh and it is now reaching its crescendo. Morning mists roll up from the Tamar below and create an ethereal river enveloping the valley: the russet, copper and ochre of the surrounding woodland rise up from the brume.

It is at once uplifting and atmospheric, imagination comes to the fore, there are adventures aplenty to be had. An expedition around the grounds will throw up mysterious encounters: statues loom out of the gloom, apparition like, fallen trees take on the form of mythical beasts and who knows what spectres one will encounter in the secret tunnels and follies, all safe in the knowledge that the haven of the house awaits: afternoon tea by a warming fire and the hazy recollection of events that may or may not have just happened.