Feeling parched
I realise it’s pathetically British to complain about too much sun, but it feels as though the weather has been taunting us since lockdown started. There’s nothing like sweltering heat to make you long for a cool pint at your local, or to nip to the shops for an ice cream, and somehow having a garden barbecue without any friends feels a bit sad. Add late pregnancy to the mix and I have been huffing about like a hippo who has strayed too far from the watering hole. I sit, baking in our foolishly designed sun trap of a kitchen looking anxiously out at my plants, and they reflect my own state back at me: limp and languishing they flop about looking awful outside while I do the same indoors.
A neglected Primrose reflects how I feel…
But, sadly for them, whilst I can have a glass of water, I have to resist watering them in the midday heat no matter how much they seem to beg me. Plants watered in the sun can be scorched (the droplets act like a magnifying glass) but they also come to expect water to get them through the day and so will retain moisture less well in future. It feels like pretty tough love when everything is struggling through the summer heat, but I suppose my plants and I are effectively adopting a rhythm of life adapted from the Spanish who have been dealing with these conditions for a long time. This involves plants taking an enforced sort of siesta in the worst of the sun before reviving over a long drink in the cool of the evening (though less of the late night fiesta).
This rhythm is more sustainable for the plants but I’m also finding it more sustainable as a pregnant gardener given that all gardening jobs feel nearly impossible in the full sun. I lift secateurs to deadhead a few roses around lunch time and find myself needing to sit down, so for now I keep my gardening to the early hours for taking cuttings etc, and the evenings for watering and planting out.
Despite my best efforts there are some plants that just can’t hack it in these conditions. The main group suffering are my leafy greens, a shame since I set myself the challenge of growing all my greens for the year. Established lettuces and kale are doing ok, but my spinach, mizuna, pack choi and baby leaves are all bolting for the sky no matter how much I water them. Luckily they are all still perfectly delicious and I had intended to thin them slowly as baby leaves whilst letting a few plants mature, so all is not lost and we have just been eating a lot of smaller plants a little earlier than expected.
Bolting Pak Choi
Coping with the heat in the short term is one thing, but it is always at the back of my mind that this is a new state of affairs that will only continue. This year is set to be one of the hottest on record and in the South of England we have now only had a handful of days of rain in 2 months, and have been experiencing a gradual shift in the flowering period of plants in the last 10 years as temperatures rise. I’m planning to install a water butt in preparation for whenever rain does come. This will be particularly appreciated by my blueberries which prefer acidic rainwater to tap (but currently get what they’re given) but for now, as one dry day follows another, it feels like shutting the gate after the horse has bolted.
More than anything I find myself noticing which plants are thriving in my own garden and those that I visit, and adjusting my planting ideas around these. I am an avowed good time gardener and see very little point in trying to coax on thirsty plants in a world that is getting hotter and drier unless they are growing in a pot within reach of a good chair. I’ll also aim to get my planting and dividing done in the autumn or much earlier in the spring to give things a head-start on the weather in getting their roots down for a good drink.
A drought loving rock rose, with a perfection that looks like it just came of a Tudor bed head.
For better or worse, these conditions are something we will all have to learn to embrace. This year at least both my garden and I can hope for some kind of respite come September. The heat of full Summer will have passed and I will have a new life in my arms and be feeling a little lighter on my feet. Until then we soldier on, huffing our way through the days, living for the occasional cool breeze, and relishing the evenings when we quench our thirst as I do my rounds watering, cold (alcohol free) beer in hand.
