I for one, for the most part, am an advocate for rain, selfishly for my garden and specifically for those old Victorian Ostrich Ferns I brought from The Homestead.
It has rained so much this spring that many farmers have had to delay putting their crops in, and so they are behind, and from forecast models I’ve seen for the year I don’t believe it will get better. The wiggly jetstream over this part of Canada is supposed to stay with us for much of the season, so those on the southern part will experience below normal temps and above normal rain, and those on the northern side of the stream will get higher temperatures and lower rainfall.
And of course it has a tendency to rain on the weekend, so to many who have only the weekends off it is very depressing.
But I love the sound of the rain, I find it’s pitter-patter soothing. So all day yesterday I suppose you could call a lullaby.
Which is good since my garden, or parts of my garden, have been taking a beating. The neighbours apartment is under destruction so it can be rewired and updated, as my Irish friend had been there for almost 20 years or so and as such no upgrades had been done. So, with him gone, the landlord is able to do those much needed updates.
And, unfortunately, all the dust and debris litters the one section of my garden.
However, I came home last night and was shocked to find him with his wheelbarrow stationed under the window closest to my stoop, and thus trampling over my most sensitive and precious perennials, and my face must have registered my anger. He apologized, but I told him, touching one of those grand old dames…“these are very fragile, they can not take any abuse, please be extra careful”… but that is all I could say, as I tramped into the house in disgust and anger at my little oasis being invaded.
Once he left I saw he had smashed my poor little Heuchera, broke a couple of the Plantginea Hosta’s leaves off, but he had been careful, I know he felt bad afterwards, cause he moved his wheelbarrow back to where he had it before, near where the hose is, in the spot I have no plants.
He’s been here for over a week, and as much as he has been conscientious, as much as he has brought me a coffee every morning and left it on the step for me, introvert that I am, I find just his very presence a bit stressful, and I don’t feel at ease in my own space, my temenos, my sacred space, my in between garden, for those hours that he is here – thank god he leaves by 4 pm most days.
So, this year that rain does have a dual purpose, in washing off the poor leaves of all the wall board dust and god knows what else, but it rained and rained and rained yesterday, so this morning everything is lush and green – so there’s that.
So, thankfully I had decided to move the beleaguered Wild Columbine that had been against the wall since last spring, when I planted them there since I had nowhere else to put them. They were transplanted to the front garden, and although they probably won’t flower this year, their lovely leaves will add texture, and as hope springs eternal, next year they will flower.