Last weekend was one of those soft, grey October days where the world seems to slow down just a little. The leaves had been falling thick and fast, and the lawn outside the cottage and the orchard looked less like grass and more like a crumpled patchwork quilt of gold, russet, and bronze. I spent the better part of Saturday and Sunday with a rake in hand, working my way steadily across the garden, the damp smell of earth and woodsmoke hanging in the air.
There’s something deeply satisfying about raking leaves – the steady, repetitive motion, the gentle rustle as the pile grows, the brief flashes of sunlight breaking through the clouds and catching the edges of every golden curl. It’s a job that doesn’t ask for much in the way of thought, leaving your mind free to wander and your eyes to pick out the last brave flowers still holding on.
In years gone by, I might have bagged the leaves up straight away, thinking I was keeping things tidy. But over the last few seasons, I’ve learnt just how important those leaf piles are, especially for one of our most beloved garden visitors – the hedgehog.
Hedgehogs start looking for their hibernation spots in late autumn, seeking out somewhere safe, warm, and undisturbed to curl up for the winter months. A quiet pile of leaves tucked into a shady corner can be the perfect shelter. It offers not only insulation from the cold but also protection from predators, tucked away from the worst of the weather. In a landscape where natural spaces are shrinking, even the smallest patch of shelter can mean the difference between life and death for these tiny, snuffling creatures.
So this year, I’ve raked the leaves into generous piles under the apple trees at the edge of the plot and behind the old garage, leaving nature to weave her own kind of magic. I’ve even added a few offcuts of wood and branches to make the piles a little sturdier against winter winds. It doesn’t take much – just a little thought, a little care, and a willingness to let the garden look a bit wilder for a while.
As the evenings draw in and the first frosts brush the edges of the lawn, it’s heartening to think that somewhere out there, beneath a blanket of gold and brown, a hedgehog might be sleeping soundly, ready to wake when the world turns green again.
If you have a garden, however big or small, I’d urge you to consider leaving a few leaf piles untouched. It’s a small thing – but for a hedgehog, it could be everything.