One heckuva thunderstorm just blew through here in Small Suburbia, Georgia.
Since the beginning of March, when I first began moving my seedlings outside to the back deck to receive a bit of real sunshine and get used to a bit of the elements, I've been paying a great deal more attention to the weather.
...especially after drowning a few of said seedlings when it monsooned and flooded the pan I had them sitting in.
Once I released my plants into the wilds of the garden, I fretted. I worried. I tapdanced. I second-guessed. I asked the invisible garden goddess questions.
Is it too hot?
Have I watered them enough?
Have I watered them too much?
Is that sunburn?
Did I leave my beer out there?
Once or twice, when I thought it was going to rain, I didn't water, only to forget that I didn't water, it didn't rain, and my plants were gasping for life the next day.
On the contrary, plenty of times I've watered my garden only to duck and cover at a snarl of thunder as soon as I turn the water off.
So after work each day, I saunter out to the garden, turn the melons, pet the tomatoes (yes, really) and make sure they're not being eaten by bugs or fungus, and thank all my plants for cutting me all kinds of slack and for the future food they will be providing. Then I water the garden and hope it wasn't too much or too little.
And although I enjoy my daily garden chats, I do appreciate it when rain gives me a day off. I don't take well to the Georgia heat and humidity.
....and then I wonder if my plants want air conditioning or perhaps a fan....