The best way to make pomegranate juice using a secret tool

Every year, I feel that the garden loves autumn, too - a time to rest, to let the leaves gradually lose their chlorophyll so the reds and flagrant orange colours shine. Fruit ripens slowly, clinging to the branches until the birds, fruit bats, possums and - if they are quick enough - humans get around to eating it.

Autumn tree fruit and foliage in our region are so spectacular that we forget about the lower, smaller autumn glories.

Every year, I wish I could put in a whole bed of Japanese Anemones or windflowers. They come in many shades of pink, white, and red and probably other colours have been bred now, too, but if I go looking I will be tempted yet again to buy them.

This would not be a good idea. Sadly, Japanese Anemones don't cope well with drought, so only plant them if you water your garden. If your flower beds are like mine - neglected - and you still crave Japanese Anemones, the white ones are the hardiest and will survive at least two or three years of drought. "Windflower" is the perfect name for Japanese Anemones, as the blooms seem to change colour in the slightest breeze. There is a local veranda that looks over a bed of windflowers, and I envy the owner's opportunity every autumn to watch the wind just by gazing at its effect on the blooms.

Oak leaf Hydrangeas are also at their best now, with their huge conical heads of double flowers drooping from the bushes and their foliage just beginning to turn into red and flaming purple. Oak leaf Hydrangeas also need a moist spot and dappled shade, too. But if you have any bare-trunked deciduous trees that would look better surrounded by Hydrangeas, this is the time to plant them so you can enjoy both leaves and blooms until they become bare-stemmed in winter.

Autumn for me also means melons - the deeply flavoured modern small ones that have been bred for cooler climates. Unlike most fruit, which become more flavoursome in hotter climates, these short-season melons are fragrant perfection. Grow your own next spring or dash to a farmer's market each weekend for the next month or so as their harvest season is short. Surprisingly, melon vines do quite well in droughts - the original semi-wild ones were cultivated as a way of carrying water through South African deserts, and I've seen a most productive vine growing out of a hot, dry sandhill. One small melon suits two greedy people, or four more restrained eaters.

Then there are persimmons and pomegranates. Both trees will give you golden foliage and bright fruit as well as naturally smallish, neat trees. Sadly, the best pomegranates for eating have dull yellow skins with just a hint of red, unlike the vivid red-cheeked ornamental ones, though they are still good eating.

Pomegranates are best harvested immature - a few weeks ago - when you could scoop out the unripe crunchy seeds, scatter them with salad leaves and let deeply flavoured juice become the salad dressing. It's now approaching "juice only" time for pomegranates. The best way I've found to extract pomegranate juice is to buy a potato masher, which will also be useful for mashing your spuds. Or even better, a combination of potato, sweet potato and finely chopped celery leaves, but I digress.

Place the pomegranate seeds and pulp in a large bowl, no more than half-full, and squish down hard with the masher. Do not wear your best shirt while you are doing this and don't put the bowl near your white damask dinner napkin, either. Keep squishing, then tip the pulp and juice into a strainer and let the juice drip into a bowl overnight just in time for breakfast, or to be frozen in small ice blocks to cook with or add to drinks.

Like every deeply coloured fruit or veg, pomegranate juice is extremely good for you, which is an excellent excuse for planting another tree. A basket of pomegranates also makes a lovely gift for a friend. Have a potato masher handy, too, in case they don't already have one.

You could then sit on your veranda, sipping iced pomegranate juice with soda water, admiring your wind-brushed Japanese Anemones, or your Proteas beginning to burst into bloom, or your deep blue of native Poa tussocks that seem to glow more vibrantly as the weather cools.

It's difficult to find any area of garden or bush in this region that doesn't look glorious in autumn. It will look even better if you happen to be eating a slice of melon.