And the rain it raineth

 

I know I keep banging on about how shitty the weather is, but it's just been so fucking gloomy that it's hard to believe that any of this will work at all and why do I even bother? It's sunny today, though, and the weather prognosis seems to indicate vast improvement as we move toward the end of the month, so maybe things will happen. 

I was actually flicking through my photos, today, and can acknowledge that even in These Dark Times things continue to grow.

Tomatoes at the beginning of June

Tomatoes at the beginning of July

Tomatoes two days ago

For all of that lovely hedgerow, though, we have flowers, but only two proto-toms (either Russian Black or Cherokee Purple - I can't remember which one is which, now).

Enough for chutney on its own?

Also in mid-July, I finally harvested my first peas, with several more coming on. It just all feels like everything's just out of its normal time. ::shakes fist at Covid and weather and the gods::

So far, the only plant with pods

Facebook keeps reminding me of how much sun we had, last year, and how much stuff we were already harvesting. We were already well into the beans, by now, whereas this year we're only just getting pods on the field beans, and the haricot verts are just now starting to really get to the point where they might maybe flower. 

I am seriously reconsidering the whole 'running off to have a tiny farm' scenario we've been bandying about. This is not for the faint of heart! 

At any rate, we're about to have a marigold, and the courgette and sunflowers are finally taking off, so perhaps all is not lost.

Sunflowers, behind an enormous carrot

The courgette is now forming proto-flowers and thinking about taking over

On the verge of a stripey marigold

To end things on a high note, though, one plant is loving all of this humidity: Audrey III, our wee cape sundew that we keep in the bathroom to eat all of the gnats, is actually starting to flower! This is unexpected and delightful!

"Feed me, Seymour..."

I fully expect that by this time next week I'll have forgotten the tribulations of Urban Gardening In The Neverending Rain and be crowing about the avalanche of peas and the metric tonne of tomatoes we'll get. I hope so, anyway.

My trusty violets, a source of delight in the midst of ::gestures broadly at everything::