Back at the summerhouse for Henri’s brother’s birthday. Generations of Londoners celebrating their best-loved Danish Uncle Jorn. The sun shines, there are old school friends, fizz and excited chatter. Plus, of course, the classic family chocolate-and-coffee cake. Later, we gather for a sunset walk along the strand. Our “wild meadow bed” is fading now. The borage is swooning, though still attracting bees. The nasturtiums and calendula are collapsing. The ox-eye daisies standing tall. There is a whisper of Danish autumn in the early morning and late evening air. The apple tree is empty. The fridge is packed with jars of Henri’s redcurrant and blackcurrant jams. The bushes are food for birds now. There is much Londoner excitement as the red squirrel swings by to say hello. The wood shed logs will start diminishing now though there is chopped wood for winter yet. Bo, the local woodsman will drop off a tree trunk or two for us to trim and split. Outdoor autumn work. You can never have too much firewood as the Danish winter nights draw in. We will return to give the meadow a last late-autumn trim. We’ll deadhead the heavy-scented rugosa and pick the pears while they are still just firm. Henri will make her perfect pear tarte tatin. I love Scandinavian autumn and winter here. Wrapping warm for gardening work. Lighting fires as the nights draw in. Perhaps an Islay whisky in the fading evening light. For now, though, we will tie up the old-school Danish rose, trim a few of the plot’s more rampant edges. Look out for winter work on our early morning walkabout. Henri and dear friend Elizabeth will go for a last late-autumn swim. I am less intrepid, so will stick to paddling with Gio in the bay’s shallower end. But now what do you love best about your autumn garden?