Now that the weather has changed and we’re in for a period of warmth and sunshine, the tomatoes have gone outside, the busy lizzies are potted up, as are the petunias, the cosmos and the geraniums, we enter the watering period. That time of year when every day ends in a marathon session of heaving watering cans from one end of the garden to the other.
Every year I promise myself fewer pots and every year I’m tempted by a few more bedding plants and end up with just as many if not more.
This year the whole process should have been easier with the installation of the hose pipe but the virus intervened and it’s been back to manual labour.
Our garden is long and thin. It’s divided into four parts with the vegetables at the furthest end, which is where I start. Once these and the fruit bushes have been done, I move on to the pond area and then the pots that are outside the living room window and those at the side of the house. The front counts as a separate area and has to been done last as that is where the evening sun lingers the longest.
Watering takes about three quarters of an hour and although it is hard work, I love the scent and feel of a summer evening. By nine o’clock the air is cooler and slightly damp with dew. A frog croaks, another one startles me with a sudden leap into the water, a peak through the curtain of lobelia shows that the robin has settled back on the nest. The plants that looked a little limp have revived, there’s faint tinge of pink in the sky and a feeling of stillness about the garden.