When Seasons Clash

It's difficult to imagine - at the moment at least - that in August 2022 on arrival here at Lower Down, that every stick, twig, leaf and blade of grass in the garden, and in the fields beyond, as far as the eye could see, was a uniform shade of roasted brown, and everything - everything - plant-based appeared dead to this world. The lawn was crunchy underfoot in a way I'd never experienced before here, or anywhere else for that matter. Fast forward to now - and I know we're only just into Spring now, but the contrast remains - the place is as verdant as it's possible ever to imagine: albeit fuelled by the wettest Autumn and Winter this area has seen for a very long time. It's small wonder that work is underway to improve drainage for the barley fields below the cottage, before the next deluge occurs, as it undoubtedly will. But the cycle of stupidly hot, dry weather, alternating with so much rainfall, annually, is death on a stick to arable farmers, and not much better for those farmers that breed livestock. The normal annual cycles are shifting at a rate I can't recall having witnessed in my seventy years, and it ain't looking pretty...