Soggy sulk

Rats, rats, rats. Raining. And it has been since yesterday afternoon. If you only knew all the things I was going to do today: the list is vast. Strim the terraces, do a bit of chemical destruction to the weeds around the vineyard, strim a small path up past the walnut trees (the rest we are going to leave as wildflower meadow this year). Plant tomatoes, plant aubergines, put up the bean poles for the sweet peas and climbing beans. Plant lettuce plugs. I could go on. But so does the rain.

I just went up to the potting shed to check the rain gauge – we have had 36mm of rain overnight. Which my gauge very helpfully tells me that it’s almost one and a half inches in old money. My main reason for going out was to see if there was anything left of the wildflower paths. The rain was so loud and emphatic overnight that it rattled the windows just after five this morning. And once you are awake and imagining the worst you don’t easily go back to sleep.

But to my relief they aren’t too damaged. Just one runnel of water on the top path; and the rest is intact. Poor little seeds. Either this will give them a mighty boost of germination or they will be washed so far down the sand bed they won’t make it back up. But this is nature, and rain is perfectly fine. Just wish it was a gentle sprinkle and not a stormy gush.

The birds are going mad in the trees mind you. And despite the rain and howling storm everything seems fine in the potting shed. The aubergines are so top heavy with growth they would have been battered to shreds outdoors. Dilemma about whether to plant now or leave them in the safety of the cold frame for another week. I shall have breakfast and ponder. Meanwhile, distract yourselves with pictures of the cherry blossoms. It’s what we admire out of our kitchen window.

Oh go on, there are dozens more as they are so photogenic: and other flowers and blossoms aren’t out just yet. Here are the ones down by the front drive, and here are the small patch below the pool.

They are certainly more fetching that the very late birch tree nearby, and the worryingly late mulberry. We are in that month of wondering whether or not the tree is dead.