It was hot yesterday. The kind of heat that leaves you feeling sticky, grumpy and really lethargic. The sky was blue and the wind was far from a cooling breeze as its warmth did nothing to ease the discomfort of the day.
But it didn’t start out like that, there was a heavy dew on the grass, unlike a few weeks ago when we awoke to a dry ground and weather boffins hinting at the possibility of drought. There was also a hint of a chill in the air. Not one to have you reaching for a jumper, but there is an ever so slightly discernable change to the mornings.
Not that it has been the kind of summer where the chill is a welcome relief, but far from it. It has had more than its fair share of wind and rain, punctuated by a handful of the blue sky days generally expected of a summer. For every grey day there was always hope – hope that tomorrow would be a normal summer day, which would lead into a normal summer week and with a breath of wishful thinking would have us hope for a month of normal summer weather.
This chill brings with it something else – a resignation. Summer is slowly taking its leave. There are only a handful of days left before we can no longer cling to possibility of a decent summer. I harvested my sweetcorn the other day, but couldn’t bear the thought of yet another bare bed stripped of its crop. The excitement that comes with sowing tiny seeds in the spring has been played out. The harvest has been had and is tucked away to bring sunshine to the cold grey days ahead. So I did what I could to kid myself that there is still time in the sun – I stripped the ears from the stalks, but left the plants still standing. It is such a significant part of my garden landscape and will create such a gap with its absence and would send a ‘welcome, we are ready for you‘ message to the incoming season.
Time seems to slip by faster and faster each year, but I want to shout out to the waning summer sun “wait, I haven’t had time to enjoy you yet!” But I have my harvest. Whether I liked it or not, another season is drawing to a close, so there isn’t much more for it but to begin to clear up the crops as they finish and make way for a new season of planning, preparation and hope and excitement.
But not one to let things go easily, while there is a summer crop still lingering in my garden, unharmed by that first frost which could be weeks or even months away, then it is still summer for me – even if I do need to reach for a jumper!
Come again soon – there is a heat that can be found in my ripening chillies. I wonder if Hubby the Un-Gardener will unwittingly find out how hot each one is for me this again year – or will he have learnt not to trust me this time!
Sarah the Gardener : o )