From the excessively jubilant tone of this piece you might be tempted to think I liked or even loved rain.
Not so. Anyone who read my "Raindrops keep falling on my head" blog on 18th March will know better.
Incidentally the 18th of March was the last time we had any rain worthy of the name, so last night's and this mornings deluge are long overdue.
For the gardeners among us, particularly those with an environmental conscience, drought is a serious crisis of that conscience, To use a hose, or not to that is the question. Whether to suffer the loss of precious plants and shrubs or to ditch the conscience and water everything copiously.
But plantsmanship is above this politically correct sway, it is enthroned in the hearts of gardeners. It is an attribute to God himself.
So far it looks as though I have lost one or two of my more treasured 'friends'. Chief of which is a lovely
Grevillea which I was assured I would never be able to grow in this exposed and fairly chilly area.
That was twelve years ago and its amazing bright red bottle brush like blooms have lit my winter and early spring front garden every year, that is, until this one, when the severe and lengthy winter gave way to drought.
It is now a sad shade of brown - in fact it looks rusty - and there is no sign of green at a casual glance.
I shall of course have a closer look when the rain allows. Did I mention I hate getting wet? and if it can be saved it will not be for want of trying.
Earlier, my beautifull tree peony put out three fabulous tea-plate sized blooms, only for them to shrivel and dry within 24 hours. Really, is it any wonder we in this country are famous/notorious for endlessly discussing the weather?
As I speak, sorry write, the sun is already appearing at the edge of the blue/black sky so I guess we've had all we're getting for now.
Oh well, let's be gratefull for small mercies.