Mushy Garden

We have been quite fortunate this winter not to be in one of the flooded areas in the south of England.  We almost were as we had looked at several properties in areas that have had problems with flooding but – knock on wood – so far, our rental house has been fine through all the rain.  Not that we haven’t had some problems as the conservatory has been pumped up as it was breaking away from the house.  But so far, we’re good.  No flooding.

That said, our back garden is mush.  Walking across it yesterday to retrieve some of the fallen branches and debris from the wind, it was like walking through a plate of mushy peas – I imagine.  Squish, squash, mush, splat, splash.  Our back garden has always been a lot more moss than grass but it is green so who really cares.  But now, it is pretty much turned into a swamp.  If the weather were warmer, I’d be looking for mangrove stumps or cypress knees or lotus blossoms in the middle of the yard.  I am still feeding the birds and squirrels and neighborhood feral cats and foxes and badgers so do need to squish across the garden periodically to fill the freeloaders bowls.  The mush pulls at my shoes and spits water up at me as I gingerly traipse to the feeders.  Rather unique feeling.

We have a lovely back garden that overlooks the golf course where we can see that the sand traps have turned into small lakes.  Yet still the golfers come almost every day.   And our garden was built up to equal the level of the house and to hold a deck rather than slope down to the golf course.  Underneath the deck, we can see the whole garden buildup straining against the brick wall that has already been braced against the pressure.  My hubby thinks that the broken gap between the dirt and the bricks has grown and the pressure has increased.  We are rather intimidated by it and a bit afraid to measure the gap in case we are right and it is increasing.  While I think we are OK and won’t flood, I think it is now a race.  We need enough dry days for the garden to dry and quit being mush.   If that doesn’t happen and we get more rain, I fear the brick wall might finally succumb to the pressure and the whole garden might slide down the slope to the golf course.  Gone will be the deck, gone will be my workshop under the deck.   Mush, mush, mush.  Still, not as bad as the Somerset Levels (had to ask my gardener what they were) but never had such a mushy yard.


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