On Martin Hemming’s “Come Sweet rain…” The Times, July 1st.

This morning l was battling with my garden; I’ve never felt like this before. It’s the lack of rain.

You wonder which plants to water, and whether to bother, because you might not be able to keep up with the watering. It was hot at 7 am this morning.

I laughed out loud at Martin’s article describing his battle with his garden plot. The only thing that seems easy to keep alive in my garden at the momemet are the roses probably because they are underneath a canopy and shaded.

Like him l lost my lupins; not to slugs and snails as they don’t like it in the front garden, to something else after leaving them for a weekend

I’m old enough to remember the summer of ’76 but not gardening in it. That year my dad grew sunflowers, and they love the sun and lapped it up growing to 6 or 7 feet high. I’ve never forgotten the happiness they brought to me and my dad.

Gardens always bring happiness.

 

 

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