Zoom Image
Wildflowers fight for attitude – and so does the gardener
Photo: stanley45 / iStockphoto / Getty Images
It felt like it had been pouring non-stop in Hamburg for weeks. It poured and peed, it crackled and sprayed. When the sun finally comes out, it's like after a long illness during which you can't imagine ever being fit again. When you have recovered, you can hardly remember how horrible it was, you felt so weak and miserable.
In July, an above-average amount of rain actually fell in the Hanseatic city: 143.8 liters per square meter was measured by the German Weather Service at the official climate reference station in the Fuhlsbüttel district. This is 175.6 percent more than the so-called long-term average, which is 81.9 liters per square meter for Hamburg. It represents the average precipitation value of the years 1961 to 1990, a reference period established by scientists. In July 2022, on the other hand, it was very dry: only 48.2 liters of precipitation are recorded.
I was allowed to be in Iceland for one week this July with the most beautiful sunshine. When I returned, I took out my rubber jacket and boots. August also started quite wet. On the terrace, dwarf pony-sized snails plowed through the pools of water, I hoped they would drown. In vain. What was left of the dahlias in the pot after the floods had added to the bulbs, the snails ate. The shrubs lay on the ground for days as if trampled down by an elephant, so hard was the water pressing them down. The forsythia still looks plucked. The small meadow was muddy, the wildflowers were fighting for stability, and so was I.
But is it okay to complain about too much rain in times of drought, heat waves and forest fires? Some people think: no. This is not bad weather, but very welcome. After all, the groundwater level is far too low. You just have to dress accordingly, then it's not a problem. If you're stuck in a tent on the rainy North Sea with two small children, you might see it a little differently.
The soul is dependent on the weather
But even me, without a child and with a solid roof over my head, the rain got on my nerves. I am aware of the problem of falling groundwater levels, and I take them seriously. But after three days of continuous rain, the thought of the rising groundwater level is only partially comforting. The rainwater barrel has long since overflowed, and although I know that it is a luxury problem: After five days, I get afraid that my passion flower will drown in the pot on the terrace. Not to mention the heads of lettuce.
It has always been the privilege of garden owners to complain about the weather. Always and in principle, twelve months a year. It's too wet or too dry, too cold or too warm – and of course it can also be too windy. Karel Čapek already recorded this in his wonderful and still topical book "The Year of the Gardener", published in 1929: "People who don't care at all have reason enough to complain about the weather, like the gardener!"
And let's face it: whining helps. It doesn't change the weather, but it relieves the soul. Their condition is demonstrably dependent on the weather. My colleague Maren Keller has just talked to a psychologist about this. The ideal weather for most people is therefore 21 degrees and sunshine. It ensures the production of vital vitamin D in our bodies, prevents serotonin levels from dropping and regulates our internal clock.
It's supposed to rain, yes please, absolutely and definitely. But maybe not for days at a time. Especially in July and August. It's better to do it in February and March or even in November, that's what you're prepared for as a North German. And in summer, preferably at night or in the early hours of the morning. Preferably as a gentle country rain, brand gardeners delight. You will be allowed to dream again.
In the meantime, most of the plants have straightened up again, and there are even clear winners of the rain masses: my hydrangeas. In the drier years, I feared for their survival, because I water them very sparsely, if at all. As well as the rest of the garden: out of respect for the groundwater level. After this last rather dry spring, they weakened especially. Now they are tight and proper in the bed again. Until the next dry spell comes. Then I can whine about it.