Photo by Belle Daughtry/ @just_belle
As the temperature cools and the threat of frost looms closer, the garden undergoes a beautiful paint job: deep reds, silky browns, and the richest orange-rust are autumn’s gift.
As I retreat indoors after a summer spent outside, I want the plant and flower displays across the cottage to be welcoming and familiar. I want them to gently ease me back into darker nights and slower starts by somehow responding to the changing landscape outdoors. The abundance of summer has faded, and the heady days of rooms filled to the brim with flowers have passed. In their place, a single jug of dahlias or a solitary pot of cosmos is enough to lightly transition to this more sober of periods.
Photo by Sean A. Pritchard
Rudbeckia hirta 'Autumn Colours'
I suppose I start a yearly cycle of fully appreciating the beauty of plants and flowers in the autumn. The disappearance of everything that has sustained me over spring and summer comes with a jolt, but one that always reminds me of why I love the garden and the things I grow in it so much. I begin to once again look carefully at the flowers that are still around and take in their intricacies in a way that feels unnecessary, or somehow less important, during the height of summer. And so, at this time more than any other, I want the plant and flower displays in my cottage to be exhibits that can be closely studied and scrutinized.
Photo by Sean A. Pritchard
In autumn, there’s a special feeling to be had when you come home to a house filled with dahlias. With summer behind you, there’s an impending sense of the garden coming to an end, so displays of dahlias everywhere almost feels as if you’re cheating the inevitable.
Photo by Sean A. Pritchard
Inside, cut cosmos is always a cheery sight. I cut as much of the stem with the flower as possible to achieve tall displays that flop over and land in informal positions.
“Dahlias are the cabaret act in the autumn garden.”—Sean A. Pritchard
Photo by Sean A. Pritchard
Plants and flowers have the power to elevate any area of the house. On the kitchen dresser: heleniums, rudbeckia, dahlias, and zinnias in an old jug capture the chaos and spontaneity of the garden.
I enjoy the finality that the end of autumn brings to the garden. It’s a satisfied feeling of closure mixed with a proud sense of achievement at everything that was grown and nurtured. But, while there’s undoubtedly a short period of rest, in reality, closing the door on the garden outside merely opens another one to a season of gardening inside. A kind of anti-hibernation where, although confined to the house, the endless pursuit of displaying plants and flowers very much continues.
Photography and Text by Sean A. Pritchard
Excerpted from Outside In: A Year of Growing and Displaying (Mitchell Beazley, 2024).
Buy the book and find inspiration for designing your garden and enjoying the fruits of your labor.
