It is raining and the sky is dark. The leaves are falling fast from our three cherry trees, covering the garden in a blanket of colour that’s mostly yellow. It is a lovely sight. I’m sitting at one of the upstairs windows and I can see the whole garden. Some of it is completely covered, so as soon as we get a good day I will be raking the leaves for composting.

In our garden we do this by burying them in the soil. They will decay quickly and help to mulch up the soil. We recently cleaned the flower borders, getting rid of the old summer plants. We dispatched any pots of tender plants to the glasshouse for winter. But first we washed the glasshouse down and frost-lined it, so now it is safe from the severe frost that we get here in the midlands.

All of the begonia tubers were cleaned, left in their pots and stored under the flower stands. There’s no watering done inside the glasshouse, as splashing around water spreads fungus and other diseases.

Somebody asked what to do with vegetable marrows when they are brought indoors from the garden. I don’t like them at all, so I don’t grow them. However, my mother was a great gardener and would not be without them in spring. She would get my father to bring a donkey cart of well-rotted farmyard manure to the garden. Once there, it was left in a heap and covered with soil.

When the chance of frost was over the marrow plants she had been growing on a window sill would be sown on top of the heap of manure and soil. There it would produce huge marrows in late summer. They would be cut from the plant and stored in a dry place. Jam was always made and some would be served with duck – that was a special treat on Christmas day.

The marrows were scooped out and a mix of minced beef, onions and celery was placed inside to be roasted in a hot baking pot over a coal fire. No modern ovens in those times in farmhouses. It was served with whatever poultry my mother reared, be it turkeys or Aylesbury ducks and geese, for the Christmas market.

Brown bread was a love of my mother’s and reading Neven Maguire’s new book brought back memories, as almost the same recipe she used is in his book. She only left out the seeds and used buttermilk from her own churn. I still remember that slice of bread with a lump of fresh butter.

Now with Christmas just around the corner, our thoughts turn to presents and you won’t be disappointed to receive a good cookbook as it’s a lifetime gift for young and old and can be passed on. So merry Christmas and a happy new year to all.