You Can't Argue With the Weather

If gardening has taught me one lesson above all others, it's that nature always has the final say.

There are mornings when I step out of the van, look up at the sky and quietly smile to myself. Not because the weather is particularly good or particularly bad, but because I've long since realised there's absolutely nothing I can do about it.

When I first started gardening, I probably spent far too much time wishing for different weather. A rainy week would frustrate me because I couldn't get on with the jobs I'd planned. A hot spell meant carrying hoses and worrying about newly planted shrubs. Strong winds scattered leaves and hedge cuttings faster than I could clear them, while late frosts seemed to delight in catching the first tender shoots of spring.

I suspect every gardener goes through that stage.

The longer I've worked outdoors, however, the more I've come to understand that the weather isn't something to overcome. It's simply another part of gardening.

Every season brings its own challenges, but it also brings its own rewards. A wet spring might delay mowing, yet it fills the borders with lush, healthy growth. A dry summer can leave lawns looking tired, but it also encourages many Mediterranean plants to perform at their very best. Even a cold winter, which can feel rather unforgiving at the time, quietly deals with pests and gives many plants the rest they need before another growing season begins.

Nature is remarkably good at finding balance.

We don't always see it immediately because we're usually looking at today's problem rather than next month's benefit. That's perfectly understandable. When you've spent the morning trying to work around heavy rain, it's difficult to feel grateful for the water soaking into the soil beneath your feet. Yet time and again, the garden reminds me that short-term frustrations often become long-term advantages.

Working outside every day has changed the way I think about the forecast. I still check it, of course. Any gardener who says they don't is probably telling little white lies. But I no longer expect it to fit neatly around my plans. Instead, I've learnt to fit my plans around it.

There's something surprisingly freeing about that.

Rather than feeling disappointed because I can't do one job, I simply move on to another. A rainy afternoon becomes an opportunity to work beneath trees or tidy a greenhouse. On a particularly hot day, start earlier and save the heavier work for when the temperature begins to fall. Gardening teaches flexibility in a way few other jobs can.

Perhaps that's one of the reasons it has kept me grounded over the years.

The weather has a wonderful way of reminding us that we're not in control of everything, however much we'd sometimes like to be. We can prepare the soil, choose the right plants and care for them as best we can, but the final chapter is always written by nature.

Oddly enough, I've grown to like that.

There's a quiet humility in accepting that the garden is a partnership rather than a project. We each play our part. I do what I can with the knowledge and experience I've gathered over the years, while nature quietly does the rest in its own time and in its own way.

The weather still catches me out occasionally.

I suspect it always will.

But after more than twenty years, I've stopped arguing with it.

Life is much more enjoyable when you simply learn to work alongside it.

Marcus

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Marcus Bergin

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