A case of bad wind

I've been out in the relentless drizzle for two hours now and at times like this I wish it was my day job. Gardening in the rain is hugely satisfying, as you get gradually soaked but don't care because the air feels fresh, the garden shines and if you're the type who talks to plants I imagine you can almost feel the euphoria as they indulge in their equivalent of a wet t-shirt competition.

So if you're reading this curled up in a blanket waiting for the British summer before you clear the debris from the soil you should know by now that it came and went over Easter so haul your backside out there.

However, wind is a different beast altogether. It's no fun gardening in even the lightest breeze. It stresses out the plants, scatters petals, leaves and baby produce all over the place and messes up your hair.

The petals and leaves cover your finely-tilled growing space, but it's the destruction of the young that is most distressing.  I gathered up what would have made some fine apples and pears, but after a few days lying distraught on the ground are now shrivelled and decaying:

Destroyed by vindictive gusts, that pass through with little thought for the carnage left behind, the brutality of the elements claim their victims. Not that I'm bitter...