I sit writing this at the end of August on a cool, rainy day—a strange feeling after seemingly endless weeks of scorching sun and drought.
May was a similar month of contrast. Spring had been springing away throughout April full of sunshine and flowers, yet for the first half of May, we were plunged back into winter-like weather when spring storms brought heavy rain, thunder, and lightning for two weeks.
We scraped together the last of our wood stores, snuggled in front of the burner, and gave up hope on fixing the roof. Then, almost as suddenly and shockingly as they started, the storms stopped, and temperatures shot up into the thirties almost overnight.
The rest of May and the following weeks passed in a sweaty flash of visitors and a permanent heatwave, only just now broken by end-of-August storms to see us through to the official end of summer—when, ironically, the sun will return in full force once more.
To be honest, I would love less of the extremity and a more gradual cooling down and heating up, like in the good old days, but nature is fighting the chaos that we humans have caused, and we need to live with the consequences.
So here I sit in August, listening to the thunder and heavy rain on the bus roof. I've dug my warmer clothes out of storage, as my attire for the past three months has consisted mostly of shorts and swimwear. Not today, though—my mac is out of hiding, there are towels on the floor to stop the constant spread of wet inside, and I'm dreaming of all the dogs and cats wearing shoes (and taking them off when they come in!).
The garden disliked the unpredictability of this year as much as I did, so I planted less than I ever have. What should have been peak planting time felt too cold, and seedlings were getting battered. Yet as soon as that risk was over, the ground dried to its summer standard, and planting delicate babies carried a huge risk of them dying from heat exhaustion. A farmer friend of mine recently said he wishes he had retired last year, as this has been the toughest year of his long career.
The heat continued all summer until now. The usually green ground became more scorched each day from May until it was just dust and straw, creating the annual summer battle of keeping the outside from spreading inside—a military-like campaign of daily sweeping and a strict “shoes off inside” rule, only just managing to keep it at bay.
Now, only days after the shock of the biggest summer storm I have ever witnessed here, the grass is growing back green, though I am wondering if the few things I did plant will recover fully when the warm weather returns this weekend.
August
Began as always with the old Wheel of the Year festival of Lammas or Lughnasadh, half way between the summer solstice and the spring equinox we celebrate the start of the season of abundance.
The first harvests are in, and there's feasting to be done.
We feasted mostly on berries, as my garden has been sadly neglected this year
Garden News
My self imposed planting ban endured, as I knew i wouldnt have the time, but there was still plenty to enjoy. We still have courgettes, runner beans, tomatoes, basil, potatoes, —along with the never-seen-before spectacle of strawberries in August. We usually get them in June and September, but never before in August.
Sadly I didnt have time to collect kilos of lush raspberries that instead just dried on the canes, tho Ive frozen plenty of other berries, dried strawberries, and made the nicest black currant jam Ive ever tasted, ( particularly proud of that as Ive never been a fan of, (or very proficient at ) making jam) and made cherry gin.
The mullberies were so very juicy I made myself look like Lady macbeth every time i ate one.
I was so excited by the plum harvest, and wanted to make plum chutney but that didnt go well as the big dog ate most of the plums I picked,Weve eaten fresh from the ground potatoes ( if youve never tried those, and you get the chance, take it, as I cant quite find the words to describe the ethereal difference between shop bought potatoes and the home grown freshly dug little bundles of joy that can be enjoyed with the simplest of seasoning,
Every year i have a new favorite courgette recipe, this year i think its the soup i made.
Let me know if you’d like the recipes and Ill write it up
August, September, even October are all about eating and preserving the excess of seasonal produce.
Even if you don't have a garden, you can still benefit from the abundance of the season by opening your eyes and your heart to what grows in the hedgerows. Elderberries and blackberries are already doing their thing and are easy to spot.
Here at least, the sloes are ready already. In the UK they usually ripen later, though this year—after all the heatwaves—I am interested to see if they, like the blackberriesand elder are ready earlier.
Now weve had a bit of rain the green is returning after weeks of dust and straw an theres a strong sense of change. Not only of the seasons but all around me and within me, since the eclipse Ive felt a real shift, and a strong feeling that things re changing for the better
Amidst the heatwave and intensity, there have been some profound highlights. My summer self-care usually consists solely of wild swimming, but the major focus of this summer was the solar eclipse. The build-up to it and the few days after were a time of unexpectedly intense transformation as well as work.
Eclipse week was the busiest of the year, with the land full to bursting with paying guests and friends. It was a time of deep gratitude, reconnection, feeling loved, and being blessed to be able to offer love in return—especially bonding with old friends with whom I haven't spent much time in recent years. It was wonderful to catch up generally, but to experience the powerful magic of the eclipse itself somehow deepened our connection.
After the intensity of all this during the heatwave, the wild August storms that followed—although they have caused chaos here and more so in many areas of the world—they have been a timely reminder for me to rest when I can, let go of control ( another big theme for me this summer) as well as to slow down, adapt, and listen to what nature is trying to tell us.
Special Nature Sightings
On that note, before I sign off, I have to share some special sights in nature from the past few weeks with you. Living here so immersed in nature, it always surprises me that I don’t see more wildlife—truth be told, I usually see more in the UK than here! But this summer has brought some absolute treats:
The Jersey Tiger Moth: My first-ever sighting of one It's a stunning red moth with zebra-print wings—right up my street, and honestly, I could see myself in that outfit.
Deer in the Woods: A mother and baby deer stood completely still only a few metres from me, while my silly dogs were off chasing their own shadows.
A Local Fox: Even closer,, and surprisingly different from the city foxes I'm used to back in the UK. Smaller with a rougher darker coat, alot more ferral looking, like many of us very rural folk!
Late-Summer Visitors: In the past week since I’ve been here alone again, I’ve had a visit from a Booted Eagle up very close, sat just outside my gate, and a black squirrel that the dogs chased up a tree this morning. Im trying not to take too much meaning from this and another recent sighting of one while driving nearby, but i did have a read up of spiritual significance and this is what it said:
“Stepping Into Your Power: The booted eagle is smaller than other eagles but just as fierce. Seeing it up close is a reminder that you do not need to be the biggest or loudest in the room to possess immense personal power, precision, and influence”
Which is great to read when i am working really hard on a massive new project and work venture which Im almost ready to share about . More on that very soon
for now enjoy the sunshine while you can as I can smell Autumn in the air