The gardener's autumn: some time in the 1670s

Joseph Williams sighed. The people who worked for him were a trial to him. He had told Goody Watkin and her granddaughter Joan to go and clear a space in the over loft for the apples. They had already started picking the ripe apples from the trees in the orchard but had not thought where they would put the undamaged ones to store them for the winter. Goody Watkin grumbled about the climb up the ladder as she went. He berated himself for just telling them that the apples needed picking. He should know by now that if he asked anything else, they needed exact instructions.

Joseph thought, charitably as he should, that they made a good pair for the seeds, with Joan’s small hands picking out the seeds and storing them in small linen bags. Goody Watkins had a good eye for when to harvest them and which were good quality seeds. She knew the names of the common ones and had learnt her letters and could write the names. She was teaching Joan to do the same and she was quick to learn and accurate. Goody Watkins had contacts who could exchange seeds so that they could have new varieties and fresh lineages without having to depend on what stock the grocer could obtain from the Vale of Evesham market gardeners.

Joseph looked out over the orchard to where Gwenllian continued to stolidly pick apples. She was younger than Goody Watkin and had been up the ladder into the upper branches. She had taken no notice of what he was saying in English to Goody and Joan. She said that she spoke only Welsh and that with an accent that Joseph found difficult to understand. He would see how she managed in this household, although she came recommended by the priest, as did most, if not all, who worked here.

He went over and checked that she was separating out any damaged fruit into the wooden boxes for immediate use. She had shown in the last few weeks that she knew which were the weeds and that she could use a broom to sweep the grass paths, and she did talk to Will, the garden boy, who seemed to understand her without any problem. She walked with her eyes on the ground and seemed very weighed down by whatever had caused the priest to send her here, but Joseph would wait until she was ready to talk about her circumstances – if he could understand her.

He walked round the vegetable beds looking bedraggled now most of the crops were over. Next year he would put the peas and beans where the cabbages were. It was time to rotate where the strawberries grew too, the plants were old and had not produced as much fruit this year. He had plenty of runners growing on and they would do well over there in the sun.

He walked over to where Will was tying in some of the fruit tree branches with strips of material to fix them along the walls of the house. He showed Will where it was best to put the cut to encourage the branches to lie along the wall. Will understood his Welsh better than Gwenllian did, but perhaps that was due to his background with his tinker father, getting along with everyone. Will’s family was large despite the illness and death that most families endured. He had other brothers and his stepmother was glad to have him employed. His apprenticeship was nearly over and Joseph must talk to Master Gunter about finding him a place as a junior gardener or one nearby where he could continue some supervision. He would need to take on another boy before Will left so that the basic knowledge could be passed on.

Mistress Betsi appeared at the kitchen door and Joseph went over to discuss with her what she could have from the garden to cook. Taking the shallow wide basket from her he walked around collecting what he could find. He dug up some small turnips and carrots and laid onions in beside them, then found the remnants of some greens, but thought that they would not survive much longer if any early frosts came. He pulled some of the prolific leeks.

At the kitchen door he exchanged the heavy basket for another with bread, cheese and ale and shouted loudly "Gwenllian, bwyd!" Will was there almost before he had finished his shout and they went over to the tool barn with its benches and shelter. Joan was coming down the ladder from the loft followed more slowly by her grandmother – she knew the shout meant food, as well as drink and a rest. He dipped his hands into the bowl next to the pots on the long work bench and dried them on the rags by the side. He broke the bread and cut the cheese to go onto it as the others rinsed and dried their hands.

He and Will sat on one bench, the women on the one to the side and he said grace in Latin before they enjoyed the rest, food and drink. When Gwenllian had first arrived and he had said the grace he knew so well, she had looked at him with alarm, but Will had lent forward and muttered to her "Pob papista yma" (everyone’s Catholic here) and she had relaxed. They were very fortunate to have house cheese with bread to break their fast. After a couple of hours working in the garden, they were all glad of more sustenance than just the bread and ale. Joseph said to them that they could help themselves to an apple as well as long as it wasn’t a keeper, and they all took out their knives to cut up a damaged fruit each. Already Joan had a small sharp knife of her own that she kept in a sheath on her belt and there were always whetstones on the bench to sharpen the knives in constant use.

He asked Goody Watkin if there was enough room in the loft. The Master had bought some fancy tulip bulbs which were so fashionable now and they had to be lifted when they had finished flowering and stored in old linen bags until replanting the following autumn. The Master had given him the bags that he had used previously for storing documents. They had frayed and were not fit to have on display hanging in the parlour where he saw his clients.

Joseph had put them up along one wall of the loft. He had labelled them with the colour of the flowers and was still waiting for the white ones to change colour as they were reputed to do after a few years of growth. Master Gunter had also brought back Michaelmas Daisies from a visit to Bristol a few years before where he had seen them growing in a garden. The Master had told him about the Tradescant father and son who were plant collectors and said that Tradescant junior had brought them back from the New World. They were at their best now in October just after Michaelmas on September 29th.

He had planted them alongside the main path where the Master and Mistress and their visitors could see them but they were proving rather invasive. Their roots spread out and choked the other plants, just as did the Bears Breeches with its stately purple flowers and large leaves he had planted in between the clumps of Michaelmas Daisies. He must dig out some of the roots and also the seedlings that had sprung up around the garden. He could exchange them for other plants with other gardeners, as long as the Master was agreeable. He would need the room to replant the tulips either side of the path very shortly.

After their break, it was back to work and Joseph went over to the herb potager. He was proud of his work here and it was much praised by Mistress Betsi and by Mistress Gunter herself who used many of the herbs for healing, together with the prayers she knew so well. She collected many plants from the countryside around as well and Goody Watkin often went to help her gather what she needed for treating the sick recommended to her by Father David.

The potager was edged with rosemary and lavender together with some bush roses which were kept short. There were still flowers coming on the roses and he snipped off some aging blooms as he surveyed the small beds with their groups of herbs. The mints were constrained in big earthenware pots to keep them from edging out everything else out and there were a variety of types with different flavours and uses that could be cut for flavour or remedies like pepper mint which was good for stomach ailments.

One of the pots was newly sown this year and only poorly grown as yet and one from three years ago was congested and needed digging out and restarting with fresh soil over the winter. He had tried out parsley in pots too this year and that was still fresh and green despite the October chill, but soon the night frosts would cut it back and he would sow it again as soon as the soil warmed up. The sage in that bed would need cuttings taken and new plants grown as it was becoming too woody for good leaf pickings, although the thyme which he had raised at the same time in a shallow edging of the paving was still looking good for a few more years. The chives were still producing and he could leave those edging that bed. The lemon balm and the fennel needed thinning out, although the fennel looked spectacular with its stately seed heads. He admired the tall stems and soft leaves of lovage contrasting with the feathery delicacy of sweet cecily.

He picked his way around the margins of each bed carefully sized so that the herbs could be reached from any of the intervening paths, although now some of the paths were obstructed by foliage falling over them. He made mental lists of what needed doing and then fetched his tools in the wheelbarrow to start work on what needed doing first. This is what he loved doing, caring for the plants and making sure that they were growing in the right places for them. He stopped for a moment while already on his knees to give thanks to the Lord that he was able to do this work. He gave thanks too that it was in such a congenial place, with an employer who worshipped as he had always done and gave him protection from a sometimes hostile world.