We were walking with friends in Hawarden. The grounds of this country estate are given over to sheep that graze on the gentle slopes among the mature trees. I was puzzled to see that the lower branches of the limes had been stripped of leaves to a certain height above the ground. At first I thought it was a caterpillar infestation and then I realised that this summer's rainfall was so low, and the pastures so dry that the sheep had been stretching up to eat the leaves.
That was a fortnight ago and we have been welcoming pulses of rain passing over our garden from the west. The lawn that my husband cut by hand once the wildflowers were over has recovered its green. He no longer has to pour water over the runner beans at night and has frozen several batches. I am still using grey water for the apple trees, but as a matter of principle rather than necessity. In the September light and shade with the clouds passing overhead it feels as if the summer drought never happened.
But it did. Water levels have still fallen in our local reservoirs. I check them midweek. Pennine Sources are the closest and at the lowest percentage. We have fond memories of twenty years ago above Rivington picking whinberries. I wonder if they got a chance to swell up this season.
At this uncertain time I am so grateful that we have been here for ten years. That gave us space to experiment and to discover what grows best. It gave our apples time to put roots deep down into the clay. It showed me how to position and sow containers for salad and my husband how to make the optimum use of his greenhouse. In every season there are successes and failures - surprisingly the front garden winter squash did not enjoy the heat, the peas took several efforts to germinate. But the sunflowers are putting on a late show and the zinnias have done well.
Things can be done with patience, persistence and time. I hope we get more time.
