Sam, Chantelle and Abi are here from London Wildlife Trust, and Sam tells me he’s just about to start his talk about the orchard’s trees. Most are heritage apple trees that were planted in 2019 by the landowner, Dulwich Estate. It's a rather grey autumn day but the families here seem chirpy and several seem to be waiting for Sam’s talk.

The other band members of Larkin’ the Woods start turning up and we arrange folding chairs in a rough semi-circle in front of the gazebo provided for us, in case the weather turns. We kick off an hour-long set-list with a rousing pair of folk tunes - Bear Dance and Horse’s Brawl - which are Flemish and French respectively.

James, one of our bodhran drummers, has brought a collection of percussion instruments and lays them out on a bag so families can join in. A little boy of about three really gets into the music and his borrowed shaker, dancing along. There’s a moment of slight embarrassment when we realise that someone has dropped a coin in with the percussion, mistaking it for a collection bag.

My botanist friend, Roy Vickery, wanders over to say hello. He’s just back from a walk looking for plant galls down the road at West Norwood Cemetery, with another botanist and gall expert, Tommy Root. Roy tells me there were fewer galls than last year which is a bit worrying. I don’t know much about plant galls beyond the spangle galls which were everywhere earlier in the autumn but I love that other botanists are keeping an eye on them.

There’s a good festival vibe today. I wasn’t feeling it this morning - it felt like dawn was an agonisingly long time coming. Now I’m in a much chirpier mood.

I confess I absolutely love and need festivals, rituals and open days, particularly the autumn and winter ones. Without them, I worry that I’d just hibernate over autumn and winter.  Contemporary autumn festivals, like Halloween and Bonfire Night, have eclipsed what might be thought of as traditional autumn ones linked to nature and the seasons.

The autumn equinox on or around September 23rd marks a natural event, the day when sunrise and sunset are twelve hours apart. Harvest Home or Ingathering, the festival of the autumn equinox, has a long tradition relating to giving thanks for and committing to sharing, the fruits of the earth, and there’s a traditional hornpipe tune called Harvest Home which Larkin’ play. The Christian version of Harvest Home, Harvest Festival, is usually a week or so later, and like so many Christian festivals has become dislocated from natural event.

Later in autumn, Samhain, the festival of darkness, has been overwritten by All Saints Eve and Halloween at the end of October. Modern-day pagans see Samhain as the time to celebrate the lives of those who have passed, and a time to communicate with those who have left this world.

I don’t have any desire to communicate with the dead but I can see the point in finding something positive in darkness and early sunsets. It may seem that the darkness gets in the way of enjoying nature but, as I drive into our road late afternoon, Rosa and I see a lone bat taking advantage of the mild temperature, flashing through the patch of light under a streetlamp. The tawny owls are very vocal in Dulwich Wood at the moment too and I sneak the bedroom window wide open so I can listen to them as I’m falling asleep.

Later sunrises aren’t so bad either. I often start work before dawn at this time of year as I find writing comes most easily then. My desk overlooks our back garden with its crab apple tree and bird feeders. The blue tits and coal tits start visiting the feeders surprisingly early and I can only just make them out in the hour before dawn. Like tiny ghosts, they flit from branch to branch.

It’s also the most reliable time of year to see goldcrests in the garden, poking around in the yew bush, probably on the hunt for white flies. This morning, one perches on a dog rose branch inches from the window, and for once sits quite still for a second or two, looking in at me.    

Apple Day, on the twenty-first of October, isn’t a traditional festival, but none the worse for that. It was started by the organisation, Common Ground, in October 1990 in London and has been celebrated across the UK ever since. On the website, Common Ground says, “We have used the apple as a symbol of what is being lost in many aspects of our lives”.  That says it all.

A few weeks on from Apple Day, our band, Larkin’ the Woods, are playing at London Wildlife Trust’s Centre for Wildlife Gardening on the edge of Peckham and East Dulwich. The garden is hosting an event for Tree (Dressing) Day, another Common Ground festival that started in 1990.

It’s drizzling when I arrive but, despite that, there are still five or six families around activity tables under the overhang of the visitors’ centre.  John, our other bodhran drummer, is inside already and he and I test the mulled apple and cranberry juice, just to check if it's okay for the visitors.

I lead into the first two tunes, a couple of stomping morris dances, and in no time at all we have children and adults joining in with shaky eggs and tambourines and a few dancers. An hour and twenty tunes later I’m warm enough to take my bobble hat off.

 With the weather as it is, this could have been a wash-out, but there’s nothing like a bit of seasonal ritual and some cheery music to change how you feel about a grey day. The families who are here seem to be having a nice time, making bird seed balls and pond dipping. The musicians are smiling and the Trust staff seem very appreciative of the music.

The following day I read about the history of Tree Dressing Day and I’m inspired to join in by tying a few fabric strips to the plum tree in our front garden. We really need to reclaim some more of our festivals for nature.