Counting raindrops: Grateful as rain barrels slowly replenish

Scraping the bottom of the barrel seems to have taken on a whole new meaning in this hot summer of no significant rainfall. In its literal sense, I have indeed been scraping the bottom of the barrel (green and icky) which is no easy task because it is far down and my arms barely reach. But there I was finding myself doing just that, just to secure the last inch or so of water that sat stagnating (and fast evaporating) in an otherwise empty barrel.

I don’t recall a time where my rain barrels were empty for weeks and weeks on end, where they may get close some years, but as soon as I think how depleted they look, along comes some precipitation to fill them again. Not so this year where they have spent more time empty than full, or even partially filled, and when there is rain filling those barrels, it is soon used up.

The lack of any natural rainfall for an extended period of time in what has been an extremely hot and dry summer comes as a double-edged sword. Not only are plants not getting watered naturally and steadily by Mother Nature, but the ability to water them by hand is hampered because of empty rain barrels. And while filling watering cans and bottles and all manner of water-carrying devices is an option, it’s hard work on the waterer and just isn’t the same as a regular steady rainfall to replenish the parched ground.

Since beginning this tale of empty rain barrels, it rained overnight recently (and again since), filling the empty vessels; the largest to just below the half-way point, a slightly smaller one to just over half-way full. Words cannot describe how that feels, or how it looks to see water in barrels, although said water levels diminish by the day, used-up for hand-watering a bunch of new young trees and shrubs (temporarily potted) and a few other precious plants, and before I know it, the vessels are empty again, at least until the next rainfall.

I won’t say I claim to be a pluviophile (a lover of rain), because growing up in England, it rained more days than not and was just a way of life and one that got tiresome at the time, especially with so little sunshine to compensate. But I do like rain. The garden likes rain too. But at this point in the calendar, I’d appreciate some rain, any rain, a little rain, or rather a lot of rain, just rain, please and thank you, as soon as you can muster would be great, and so much appreciated, because one (or two) modest rainfalls does not a drought cure.

I like watching rain more than being out in rain, but I like being out in rain too, depending on the type of rain, and the mood I may find myself in. I like listening to the sound of the rain too, and I especially like to be inside the screened-in porch watching the rain pour off the steel roof (filling those rain barrels), but most especially the sound of the pitter-patter raindrops on the metal seems satisfyingly pleasant where I can sit and listen, close my eyes and just hear the rain.

I have a thing about collecting rain water in rain barrels, and it’s a thrill to be able to do so easily (at least when it does rain) collecting water to use in the garden when it’s required, especially so when Mother Nature sometimes forgets to replenish the earth. It’s yet another of those things I picked-up from my parents when I was a child where water butts (as they are known in the UK) collected rainwater from drainpipes (down spouts) and off shed roofs and such.

The funny thing about calling it a butt rather than a barrel was that the butt my dad acquired for garden use was a former whisky barrel and not a butt at all – and after many years exposed to the elements, it still held the faint aroma of its former contents. I digress. But whether a butt or a barrel, the supply kept the garden watered in dry spells, especially the vegetable patch. Although I’m not entirely sure why water was collected in a country where it seldom stopped raining, the rain barrels often overflowing as I recall, but it was a thing, at least at my house.

I have several rain barrels, cherished possessions that mostly collect the rainwater that pours off a metal roof, and given the size of the garden, I realize I probably need several more for my needs, especially during a hot, dry summer. Although at this point, no amount of rain barrels will fix the problem of no rain.

Decade’s old and still functioning more than adequately, one even travelled over with me from England so it must be 35 or 40 years old. While the little spigot thing leaks a little, the container is otherwise perfectly sound. Another, a totally indestructible re-purposed plastic food-grade container converted to rain barrel originated in Spain (according to the Spanish wording indented on its side), easily 25 years old, also still fit for purpose.

This pluviophile can only groan at the insufficiency, of depleted rain barrels, of a summer of no meaningful precipitation, and a very dry garden, of dead or dying plants and lawns (that will hopefully come back to life), yet grateful for the little rain that has fallen recently (with a little more again very recently), thankful for every single raindrop.

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– A gardener all her adult life, and much of her childhood, Sharon Harrison blames her parents for this predicament, both of whom are life-long gardeners and growers of good things, nonetheless grateful for the gardening genes, and the growing passion.

While she has written on countless topics over many years for numerous publications and media, her heart remains rooted in her Prince Edward County garden as a grower of beautiful, strange and sometimes ordinary things, inspired and influenced by nature, wildlife and the fragility of environment.