Waiting for the rain: Misha Herwin

 

Waiting for the Rain.

April 2025 was apparently the driest month on record in the UK. Or so the ever smiling, always cheerful weather presenters keep telling us. Day after day they stand in front of picture of an idyllic scene and forecast more of the same in the expectation that viewers will share their joy. 

Well this one won’t for a start. Much as I love a warm sunny day, there comes a point when I long for rain. The garden is parched. It’s May and I have to water the pots and containers every evening as well as the herbaceous border I am in the process of planting. Plants put out to harden droop by late afternoon and the sweet peas, which are water hungry, are refusing to climb up their supports.

Luckily here at Bridge Leap, we have a hose so watering is not the chore it was in our old house where I had to lug watering cans up to the top of the garden and then gradually work my way down to the outside tap for a refill. It was the relentlessness of the task that I found ultimately depressing. Although the plants revived I knew that the next day I would have to go through the same routine if I wanted to save my soft fruit, tomatoes and vegetables.

After all the effort that went into sowing and tending them, it would have been sad to lose them. However it was not a matter of life and death as it is for so many women and girls in the third world, who have to walk miles every day to fetch clean water to drink, while I merely have to turn on a tap. And if my crop fails, then I can go to the supermarket and buy what I need.

Nor is growing our own food a necessity. Unlike farmers whose livelihood depends on their harvest. Given the unpredictability of our weather it is no surprise that the farming community has such a high suicide rate. They, like gardeners, need the rain, but it has to come at the right time. Too much is as bad as too little. Water logged fields are as bad as acres of cracked earth.

Rainy days in due season have their own charm. They are a time to stay inside, to reflect and to write.

I began this post wishing for rain and the weather gods heard my plea. The skies began to grey, the smell of the air changed. I hurried outside to plant out the geraniums and great fat drops splattered on the path. There was just enough time to bring in the washing before the first flash of lightening danced across the sky and the downpour began in earnest.