Today is wild gardening day. Wild in the sense that it is pouring with rain and looks likely to do so for much, if not all, of the day. Having been soaked through once, I am taking a break to dry off and warm up. But I have already discovered that there are many advantages to such gardening – and not just that the weeds show much less resistance!

I have been potting things up ready to move in the autumn.

The cherry tree was a gift from colleagues when I left the Heritage Lottery Fund and will travel with me – in increasingly large pots – wherever I go. The little  rowan tree – which needs a small stake – is part of a Woodland Trust promotion marking the Queen’s 90th birthday. We have had at least one acer wherever we have lived. The pots of violas, primulas and ophiopogons  were a happy combination that came about when I was splitting and moving seedlings. And the hellebore seedling is one of a number that I will watch with interest as it grows: every one is different (tbc)

Back for another session between inundations. The smells of the garden are much stronger after the rain: not just the roses and lavender, but the pelargonium leaves as I brush against them. I am causing all kinds of chaos by moving pots, pulling up weeds and sweeping. The ants were particularly cross when I repositioned one of the biggest pots:

They had excavated the sand from between the bricks and rushed to move eggs back underground when they found them exposed.

The snails moved at speed to find a kinder spot when I pulled up the weeds by their wall:

One decided to show me who would be the eventual winner of this contest by crawling rather deliberately over my gardening gloves:

But despite the weather, I have filled three sacks of weeds and trimmings, potted on seedlings from the borders, and dead-headed the roses. Even the buttercup pulls up without too much of a fight when the ground is as wet as it is at the moment.

But I have a confession. I am finding it hard to feel charitable towards bindweed. It must surely have some purpose beyond strangling my roses, mustn’t it? Does anyone want to make the case for its benefits to the environment?