September's Song

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I think this might be one of my favourite moments of the year. The trees are still green, there are flowers in the garden and, on a good day, there’s still enough warmth in the sun to sit outside. But something has definitely shifted and whilst I’m not quite ready for autumn yet I am enjoying the slow transition.

The light is gentler and the warmth softer. August can become so dry and heavy; all the foliage reaches its deepest green and by the end of the month everything can feel almost leathery. But then September arrives and, before the leaves begin their proper turn towards the russets and ochres of autumn, there is this lovely faded stage. The greens soften, flowers begin to go over and seed heads dry and after the silence of high summer the first birdsong returns- usually the little robin with its distinctive, slightly melancholic September song that heralds the descent into autumn. Everything feels quieter and slightly faded. It’s nature with patina.

That’s probably why I love it so much. I’ve spent my entire working life being drawn to things that become more beautiful with age: faded fabrics, crumbling plaster, worn floorboards, tarnished silver, old leather, linen softened by years of washing. Patina is really time made visible and hold the promise of stories, history and character. At this time of year nature seems to be offering something similar.

And of course this transition is happening inside our homes too. Whilst I don’t want to suddenly decorate for autumn, I’m certainly not ready to pack summer away quite yet and, anyway, life isn’t as neat, tidy or predictable as dutifully replacing everything with some prescribed collection of autumn colours, thick blankets and pumpkins. That would feel overly prescriptive and clichéd. However, the loveliness of this moment should be celebrated and we do want to adapt our interiors as the winter months loom, making our homes feel cosier and reflecting the different way we use them during the colder months. Right now though, both seasons are present at once, and I think our homes can be allowed to hold both too.

Let the palette fade

Rather than suddenly introducing a whole new colour palette, I like to think about allowing the colours of summer to deepen and soften. Fresh green becomes olive, pink becomes dirty rose, yellow becomes ochre, bright white warms towards cream and blue becomes smokier and greyer.

You can take your cue from what is happening outside rather than what you think an autumn palette is supposed to look like. Here on the Marsh at the moment there are still plenty of greens, but they are becoming dustier and more muted. The hydrangeas are fading, the Japanese anemones are still flowering, the roses are having another flush and the hedgerows are full of blackberries. There are pale straw colours, faded pinks, acid greens, deep blackberry and just the first tiny glimpses of brown.

You don’t need to repaint a room to introduce these colours. A cushion, a blanket, a bowl of fruit, a bunch of flowers or a great branch cut from the garden might be all it takes. Against a relatively quiet room, even a very small change can completely alter the mood.

Add a little weight

The same goes for texture. I don’t believe in completely changing a room with every season; I prefer to add layers as the year progresses.

The linen stays, but perhaps a woollen throw appears alongside it. The white bedlinen remains, but the heavier quilt in more muted colours comes out. A cushion in a heavier weave might replace something lighter, sheepskins find their way onto the dining chairs to warm cold bottoms and I might add a couple of woolly throws to the sofa for us all to snuggle under on film nights.

One of the principles I’ve always used when decorating is to keep the palette relatively restrained but expand the materials- this change in texture will speak to your senses in a way that is deep and visceral. Linen beside wool, rough wood beside smooth ceramic, tarnished silver against something soft and chalky. It creates depth without having to fill a room with more and more things or insist on a change of wall colour- a preposterous suggestion that seems to have been born simply to create content for the social media hamster wheel. Don’t be dragged into that…. if you have good bones to start with, a few decorative touches are all that is needed to carry a room through the seasons.

Celebrate things as they fade

I think we have a tendency to think flowers are beautiful when they are at their peak, but I often prefer them as they are fading and dying. Hydrangeas begin to turn from white to acid green and eventually brown. Rosehips appear. Grasses dry, seed heads form and leaves begin to curl at the edges. Even a branch with slightly faded leaves suddenly seems more interesting than it did when everything was uniformly green.

Bring those things inside.

You don’t need to create a perfect arrangement. A single oversized branch in a jug or vase can be enough. I particularly like using something quite wild and unruly against the more ordered backdrop of a room. It brings a little bit of what is actually happening outside into the house rather than creating an artificial version of the season.

Follow the light

Possibly the biggest change I notice at this time of year is the light. Not just because the evenings are drawing in and we are switching side lamps on earlier and lighting candles again, but because that low September light creeps into the house in a new way. Shadows are longer, flickering afternoon light reaches different parts of the house at different times of day and it helps you to look at your home in a new way — a reminder to keep practising the art of noticing.

I’ve never been a great fan of overhead lighting. I prefer pools of light that work together to create atmosphere: a lamp on a table, a candle on a mantelpiece, mirrors, facetted glass and old silver are wonderful at this time of year because they catch whatever light there is and bounce little glimmers of it around the room.

Make one small seasonal moment

If you do feel the urge to change something, I’d concentrate on one place rather than trying to make the whole house feel more autumnal. A mantelpiece, the kitchen table, a bedside table or the top of a chest of drawers. Clear it and start again, using things you already own alongside something seasonal from outside.

In recent weeks I’ve been studying the anatomy of still life for the new book, and I’ve been thinking a lot about our apparently endless human fascination with arranging objects. For hundreds of years we have painted flowers in vases, fruit in bowls, jugs on tables and all the ordinary domestic objects that happen to be around us. The objects and the way we depict them change, but the fundamentals of shape, colour, scale, depth and light really don’t. A bowl of apples, a branch in an old jug, a tarnished silver candlestick and a pile of books aren’t revolutionary but they have given pleasure to us for centuries and making these little arrangements is one of the ways we have always brought the changing seasons into our homes — if it was good enough for the Dutch masters, it’s good enough for me.

So I certainly don’t think you need to go shopping for “autumn decorations”. In fact, please don’t! I’d much rather you rummage through cupboards and move things from one room to another. An old brown jug that has been overlooked all summer might suddenly feel exactly right, a basket can come out of the utility room and become a focal point, a hand-woven blanket can come out of the trunk and something as simple as a bowl filled with apples from the garden canbecome the hero in the room. and something as simple as a bowl filled with apples from the garden become the hero in the room.

There is no need to rush towards the next season. September allows us to keep the flowers and open windows, enjoy the last of the warm afternoons and notice the house soften and deepen along with everything outside.

Autumn will arrive soon enough. For now, I’m enjoying this softer, slightly faded version of everything.

Atlanta x

One Calm Moment

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