A drive through deepest north east Suffolk last weekend sums up everything I love about autumn in the county...by Laura Scamponi

It was unusually mild for the time of year and the light had that verging-on-celestial autumn quality about it. With no intention of spending another Sunday slaving over a hot stove we headed up the A12 from Woodbridge to our favourite farm shop - Friday Street at Farnham.

'Homegrown Pumpkins’ read the chalk board outside. October in a nutshell. The smell of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding wafted from the tearoom and we followed it inside to find the big old barn turned eatery full to the brim, save a snug little table for two where we settled ourselves with the Sunday papers.

The beef arrived with a tricolor of veg. No food that has travelled vast distances here, nor vegetables that don’t match the season. What a pleasure to think that what we were eating started its life as seeds in East Anglia’s fertile soil.

We looked in the farm shop afterwards; couldn’t resist buying some Pinney’s smoked prawns and a brown paper bag full of local sprouting broccoli. Can that many greens really cost so little.

Proceeding northwards we crossed the Blyth, above its gentle waters an afternoon mist hovered. ‘A most memorable sight on the road from Yarmouth to London’ wrote Suffolk historian Norman Scarfe of Blythburgh’s great church, which presides over this valley with mythical majesty.

A left turn led us to a labyrinth of lanes in which it is so easy to lose one’s bearings. A pair of cocksure pheasants stopped us in our tracks; loitering casually in the road with no thought of self preservation.

I’ll admit that we hadn’t a clue where we were heading but doesn’t that always make for the happiest of jaunts?

Blythburgh, Blyford, Bramfield…I’m not entirely sure on which road we found the squash man. Not an orange apparition but a charming Suffolk farmer who thought nothing of stopping his lawn mowing to educate us in the various types of squash his wife had been cultivating and how best to cook them.

I had only ever roasted the butternut kind - but was intrigued by the shapes and sizes of his October harvest. Never mind turning them into pies, soups and stuffing them full of mature Cheddar I could happily have those things displayed on a shelf in my kitchen, so mesmerised was I by their incredible textures and colours.

There were chillies too, nobbly potatoes and great big pumpkins perfect for scooping out and carving into ghoulish Halloween lanterns. We were politely asked to leave the money in a little honesty box ‘But if you don’t have the right change just leave what you can,’ said the man.

The four pound coins I dropped into that old tin seemed far too little for the love and attention that had gone into growing the big red chillies, golden butternut squash and generous sack of potatoes I returned home with.

Forget the local supermarket, this is far more civilised way to do the weekly food shop..