Monday, July 9, 2012
Even if an efficient automatic irrigation system were an option I would have to turn it down. I love watering by hand. We don't generally plan summer holidays so are here when the garden needs daily watering. We tend to travel when the plants are in the steel grip of winter, when water is not needed.
At the end of these hot July days, when the air still feels like a cooling furnace, I stand outside for a long time with the hose and fill each pot until it is brimming. The roots suck up the water and the rest runs out. Then I fill each pot again. It takes some time. If the sun has passed the terrace already I amuse myself by sprinkling the leaves of the plants. I like to think that they enjoy it. It washes the unseen soot off.
After a long and hot trip to Staten Island yesterday (leaving one ferry behind the New York Mycological Society and catching up with them beside a brown pond) we limped home to the delicious cool, dry air of the air conditioner, which we had left on for the black cat in his unzippable fur suit.
Vince poured cold drinks in the kitchen and we collapsed in our striped deck chairs on the roof to sip them, dabbling our hot feet in the cold sprinkler.
And then I came down and watered the terrace.