Wildfires blazed on the North Yorkshire moors for three weeks in July and August, resulting in local residents being advised that they might have to leave their homes. In the South of France an area the size of Paris was on fire and from all over the world there were similar stories.
Here in our green and pleasant land, it is looking distinctly yellow and very tatty around the edges. This summer’s lack of rain has emptied the reservoirs, turning lawns and borders into a post-apocalyptic wilderness of bare earth, burnt brown stems and rustling seed heads where there should still be late summer blooms.
Exaggeration of course and at least the slugs have sloped off to find the tragic remains of streams, ponds and puddles. In fact the summer heat and drought, whilst doing nothing for our wheat harvests, has produced a bumper crop of apples, plums and other fruit.
Frustrating messaging from meteorologists
Nevertheless, some of our weather forecasters still continued to announce that sadly the weather at Bank Holiday would not be brilliant for everyone and that some (lucky inhabitants of this island) might have some rain! Given the warnings from climate scientists, the variety of doom-laden scenarios that we might face in the future from global warming and climate change, the attitude of our public-facing meteorologists is frankly nuts.
Every drop of precious rain, every spit, drip, drizzle and light shower should have been celebrated this summer, not to mention the very occasional downpour, cloudburst, deluge and (in my dreams) inundation. Of course, there were a few weather forecasters who were also clearly gardeners, trying to include notes of optimism about a rain shower days into the future.
Many times a week, even within a day, I gazed hopelessly at the weather app on my phone, wishing that the little yellow sun emoji would turn into the little blue rain showers. When it did, trembling I looked to see when it would rain only to find out that it would only fall for half an hour and make no difference at all.
Politicians aren’t helping
But whilst I rant at the jolly forecasters of eternal sunshine, that is nothing to my feelings of fury to all our politicians who seem determined to ensure that our summers will be characterised by empty reservoirs, dry river beds and constant stifling temperatures both day and night. Kemi Badenoch is focusing on ‘maximising extraction’ of North Sea Oil and has abandoned net zero targets, arguing that higher energy bills would be the price. This, in the same week that we heard about a spruce bark beetle, Ips typographus which is threatening our commercial forests – a problem that will worsen with drier summers and wetter winters.
The government, while refuting Badenoch’s claims and still sticking to net Zero by 2050, have abandoned their green investment pledge, allowed a third runway at Heathrow as well as the development of the Rosebank oil field.
Meanwhile, President Trump is rolling back all environmental protections and initiatives in the USA, proclaiming ‘Drill, baby, drill’ and the multinational energy companies are now abandoning even the slimmest pretence of green washing. Southern Europe sizzled this summer and the Met Office informed us that the UK has just experienced its hottest summer on record.
Our farmers were in despair as they saw their yields decline and their overheads increase. And a nation of gardeners and allotment holders watered their cherished plants, fruit and veg by hand. If I, not to mention over 60% of my fellow countrymen and women, can make the simple connection between climate warming gasses and heat and drought then why can’t our leaders?
Autumn brings some relief
For the moment it’s September and in this golden autumn, the summer fear has receded. The days are mellow and the nights are cool and I am happy picking and storing a massive crop of apples, quinces and pears. The best news of course is that at last we have had some welcome rain – from a minor drizzle to sustained showers, massive cloudbursts and long, cool, damp days – wonderful.
The water butts are all full, the grass is greening up, feet make a satisfying squishy noise as I step out into the garden. There seems to be renewed vigour in the borders, with the survivors of the summer more brilliant – dahlias, salvias and penstemons flourishing. Similarly with the veg – the runner beans have long gone for lack of water but the leeks will keep us going all winter.
The soil is damp and easy to work. The weeds that prospered and could not be pulled out all summer from the iron hard earth now surrender easily to me or my trowel. Bulbs and other autumn planting will be easy.
Of course we need both sun and rain, heat and cool for our farmland, our gardens but also for the natural world around us to flourish in all its diversity.
But right now, I’m singing in the rain.
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