Oh! The weather!
Yesterday was hot. Really hot. So hot that I actually USED THE AIR CONDITIONING in the Shiny Van. This is unheard of.
I tried to water my plants, but Seymours’ butts were all empty.
As an early birthday present, Little Seymour Number One was the grateful recipient of a Prunus Pandora – a lovely young cherry tree that will have pink blossom next spring. Despite it arriving in time to avoid planting in the heat of summer, it appears that we did just that. These last few days have been scorching! So, water we must.
Yes, The Longest Day was certainly gloriously and even dangerously warm, with locals warning that chunks of the road had come up and stuck in their brakes. I kid you not.
But, this morning, I noticed a distinct change in the air. The sky was blueish, and the wind was fresh. Despite a forecast to the contrary, rain was coming.
I can’t pretend to be disappointed. To make me sound more middle-aged than I feel, I shall go ahead and say it – the gardens need rain! My tomato plants are desperate, not to mention the Crinodendron hookerianum that was a gift to me, alongside Number One’s cherry tree. It couldn’t have gone in the ground at a hotter time. So when the rain started, I was rather pleased.
But who could have known that the rain would quickly turn into a heavy shower, which, in its turn, would become great icy globules of hail pelting down from above? Not I.
Boy Seymour – still off school but absolutely fine, tried to go and dance in it. But I had to get him inside. Hailstones in his pox craters wouldn’t have been ideal, and besides, this was such a bizarre development on the weather front after yesterday’s 32 degrees, that I couldn’t be sure that a football-sized ice pellet wasn’t about to land on Boy’s head. Or a cat or a dog, even.
No, nobody could have predicted ice on the lawn after our heat wave. The odds must have been interesting. But then, I am not a meteorologist. Perhaps this is normal..?
Anyway, seeing as the summer is now apparently over, it’s fitting that a momentous stage in The Renovation has just been reached – the roof tiles are here! We are now all set to weatherproof The Funny Little Bungalow, which is a relief. After all, it might snow tomorrow.
And if it does, then the festival we are due to attend should be interesting. The Four Little Seymours and I are festival virgins. We’re clueless. I’ve been told to pack floaty dresses, pashminas and hair garlands. But what about snow boots? I think I might sneak those in, too.
It’s crazy that after our hot spell, the ground is now slightly muddy underfoot. There are leaves all over the lawn (and on the carpet in The Shed), and the kit list for the weekend has got considerably longer. How can conditions change so quickly? We’ve gone from the sublime to the ridiculous in two minutes flat. Oh, hang on. I know why. There can be only one explanation…
Glastonbury’s on.
Nuff said.
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