Six odd ones…
This summer is so dry. We had slightly mad rain burst about 3 weeks ago and since then, nothing. The only bonus is that the weather is cooler and tonight, it has the chill evening feel of approaching autumn. But the truth is the garden is tired. There are few flowers and very little colour.
The vegetable garden still gives most generously on a daily basis and we continue to eat very well. Not missing meat at all. We have yet to pick Beurre Bosc pears, Sturmer and Granny Smith apples, and quinces.
So what do I have to show in the borders, if anything?
I’ve had nothing much to talk about with my gardens due to the ongoing heatwave and drought. My garden began to close up on itself, plants ceased flowering, leaf edges became singed, and in fact my plant kingdom felt like I did. Badly in need of a cool change.
We finally got one on Wednesday – not so much a ‘cool’ change as a wet one. We received 40 mls of rain on the coast and 14 in the Matchbox Garden in the city. OH and self have had five days in the city, during which time we cut back and generally tidied up. It’s amazing how that tiny microclimate has kept itself moist and cool. So much so I was prompted to open plant catalogues.
But back to our bigger and more productive garden.
As summer continues to bake our garden, it becomes more difficult to find anything to talk about. One can bemoan the cost of the water with which we irrigate the garden on a heavy daily basis. One can whinge about the dry thunderstorms and the humidity immediately after. Or whine about the longing for an autumnal-styled day so one can work happily in the garden.
Another Saturday, time flies!
We had to spend time in the city this week and so had three days messing about in the Matchbox garden. We trimmed the hedge that separates our townhouse from the row behind. It’s about 3 metres high and 25 metres long – made of awful shrubs that grow in weed proportions here. Things like the Cotoneaster Glaucophyllis and the New Zealand Mirror Bush which seed horrendously and choke our native species in the wild and our own gardens.
It’s raining here.
Part of the re-emergence of a weather-system off a cyclone. Because it’s a ’rebirth’, meteorologists call it a zombie storm. It’s been gloomy and the air has been heavy since yesterday and about thirty minutes ago the rain began. In our case, it’s a soaking wet drizzle, wafting in sheets across the garden and driven by a north-easterly wind off the sea. It’s not at all cold but it’s what we call ‘wet rain’, a mist that sinks into coats, coverings and skin as if storm-driven.
We’ve known this weather has been likely for a week – farmers and gardeners getting quite excited by a good drop before summer really exerts itself. With that in mind, I took the camera while the weather was finer earlier in the week, so that I’d be prepared for SoS.
It’s actually Sunday here in Oz and it’s been an awful week weather-wise, so I despaired of having anything to offer. But then I sat and watched Netflix last night – seasons of Big Dreams Small Spaces with Monty Don.
The Don is my hero – his quiet honesty, his raging enthusiasm for things he loves, his faceted depths and what appears to be gentle humility. Anyway, suffice to say that when he went to Wales to help two young chaps create their vision in the worst weather – rain, more rain and wind – I thought’ Oh what the hell…’ and went out to take a few pics.
Another Saturday and rather troubling at how fast they come around because it means Christmas gets closer faster, and I haven’t cooked anything yet. The garden, my writing, and being a new grandparent all get in the way.
I’ve mentioned our Matchbox garden periodically. It’s a tiny garden that enables us to retreat to peace when we have to go to the city to stay.