Looking up at elderflowers

These are some of the elderflowers I can't reach. The ones I could reach have now been back-blipped for yesterday. I always love looking at them, their shape and structure, and the crisp shadows the flower heads cast on the leaves. It was another bright, hot day, so as soon as J was settled with S (doing some lovely painting), I hurried outside, to try to get some jobs done before it became oppressively hot. Two large tubs of marjoram are planted up ready for the balcony, though I'm leaving them in the shade for a couple of days to settle and establish. The remaining nasturtium plants have been planted around the sunflowers in their large tubs alongside the greenhouses, and another 60+ beetroot seedlings pricked out. 

P made ajo blanco (described here) for lunch, the first of the year, with supermarket cucumbers; I hope it won't be too long before we have our own supply for cold soups. Then, after some indoor jobs and more shady sewing, it was time to water, a daily job in this hot weather. We try to grow a lot of food, and I'm increasingly concerned about the water supply issues which are already a problem in a number of areas, including parts of Kent. We don't use hosepipes and use as much grey water as we can, but the young vegetable plants still in the greenhouses, tubs of tomatoes and herbs and the many food plants in our draught-parched vegetable garden all need to be kept alive, greatly increasing our otherwise frugal water consumption. For us, this is the impact of climate change: when we bought our house and planned our garden in 2013, P pored over weather data, and found no evidence of the long spring and summer draughts which have become the norm in the past five years or so. We were not oblivious to the risks of global warming, but did not really envisage it hitting us so quickly. The young trees P planted in the old orchard have mostly established well enough, but the apples and pears are looking tiny again - we can't manage to water this large area, and the harvest will probably not merit borrowing the large apple press we used a few years ago; instead, the small fruits will be turned into jelly and cordial.