Return to My Inner Primitive….
As a Clicker, I’ve never hidden my deep dissatisfaction with the Scottish climate, and its adverse effects on my efforts to grow things. In the midst of Caledonian gloom, I have gnashed my teeth at Southern temperatures, and your blessed sunlight. NO MORE (well, not for a couple of weeks, at least). A few weeks of dry weather with heat have been enough to prove that it is only our unremitting rain that has kept half of my back garden alive, in competition with the aphid-infested wild cherry tree next door.
Desperate situations call for desperate measures – so avert your eyes while I gird up my loins, invoke the Gods in an ancient rite, and call for some blessed rain. A yellowing lawn bestrewn with blackened leaves (dessicated by black cherry aphid) and cherry suckers deserves my best soft shoe shuffle, with the pious hope that the Gods are devoid of a critical faculty. The border immediately under the tree is already a desert – but it was probably silly of me to put it there in the first place. It will have to be replanted with things for dry shade.
Thankfully, my graceless gyrations have been answered – not with the flash-flood type deluge I was calling for – but with some showers, and a cessation of that dreadful heat that sucked the remaining life out of everything within the tree’s ambit. (The Gods may have a critical faculty after all – have they just blown me a raspberry?) Never mind – I am so thankful to have the old familiar grey cloud cover back, with it’s tantalising possibility of rain . Perhaps if I promise the Gods never to do another rain dance, it will absolutely pour.