It's Still Life

29 July 2026: It is 36C96.8F. Drought is officially declared in more than half of England. The tomatoes, cucumbers and peppers in the greenhouse are surviving only because we’re allowed to use a drip irrigation system in there, which drips water slowly for only 30-minutes. Water is restricted for anything except essential use. Some areas of Sussex have no water whatsoever, and they have to rely on fetching large bottles from a central location. No watering the garden (it won’t recover). No watering the lawn (it will recover). Wash the car using a bucket, and since there’s been no rain in 40 days, the rain barrels are empty.

There is a saying, too often used in my opinion: soul destroying.

I will say that my heart is heavy, and that day-by-day it saddens more — so perhaps the saying earns positioning for me.

It seems there’s poetry for every occasion, so here’s some for you.

Senryu
the hose lies silent
still I greet each thirsty bed
by all their old names.

Haiku
summer without rain
the garden keeps its secrets
deep beneath dry roots.

Haiku
brown July grasses
the blackbird walks as if he knows
autumn remembers.

A Word with the Garden

You are not dying,
I tell the garden.
You are remembering
how to wait.

Roots have always known
what leaves must learn.
There are seasons
when survival
is the only kind of flowering.