dank

It was a dank day.  My best bet seemed to be to start cutting the edges of the lawn, since everything was wet and every leaf and branch I touched dumped moisture on my clothes, while the surface of the soil threatened to turn to a muddy slick, even though I know that a foot down it is still dry as a brick.  At least trimming the lawn edges most of you does not need to touch anything damp, apart from your shins kneeling on the wet grass.  Even so, by the time I'd made it past the end of the box hedge my gloves were soaked.

Towards lunch time it began to drizzle very finely.  I tried to decide whether this was proper rain, or just moisture condensing out of the air.  It grew steadily more insistent, and after a couple of minutes I had to admit that it really was raining.  It was a good thing I only had my shears and kneeling mat out, and had not left a trail of tools all around the back garden.  Putting them away in a hurry you always miss one, and find it a day or two later, sad and slightly rusty.  I caught up with the Systems Administrator in the kitchen, who had also been driven indoors by the rain, and had held off taking kit all the way up to the end of the meadow to work on the fallen tree there because it was just so damp.

The band of rain passed, and I was able to have another go at the edges after lunch, before packing up early to go to the music society's annual lecture.  I had been sulking that cold weather was forecast to return in the second half of the week, just when I had more free days to get on with gardening, but perhaps dry cold might be better than all this damp.