Chez Bennett Deck Farm is Soaked

While the rest of the United States has apparently been wilting in excessive heat with its own kind of consequences, here in Portland, Maine, it has been persistently dark, dank, foggy and rainy. In the three weeks and two days I have been home from New York City, the sun has appeared just twice and then, only for parts of those two days.

Dampness pervades everything. Even the mail arrives soggy and the weather people say this will continue at least through the holiday weekend.

The farmers at the Wednesday farmer's market tell me their crops are suffering from too much rain and no sun. Indeed, so is my deck farm. My first foray this year into growing some of my own food is probably going to fail.

It is so wet on my roof-protected deck that the cushions on the chaise longue and wicker chair, placed in the back of the deck next to the exterior wall of the apartment, have become soaked. That never happened in three previous summers no matter how heavy and windy the occasional thunderstorm.

This tree, which grows in a neighbor's yard next to my building, has for the three years of my residency been upright with its branches spilling attractively into the side of my deck. Now it is bent halfway over - away from my deck, fortunately - presumably from so much rain loosening its roots.

Some mold or fungus in three colors – green, orange and dark red – has invaded part of the fence surrounding the deck. Should there ever be dry weather again, it will need scrubbing off.

Remember the hanging strawberry experiment I showed you a few weeks ago? Forget it. More than half were dead when I returned from New York so I transplanted the few remaining into a normal pot. They are so leggy now without a blossom anywhere that I doubt there will be any fruit.

This hanging fan flower plant (which took the place of the hanging strawberry bags) was once big, round, lush and full. It droops now, with broken stems and many of its flowers gone.

Generally, nothing grows. The plants just sit there in their pots being wet. The blueberry bush hasn't gained an inch in a month and what buds were present have fallen off.

Equally so, this poor little nasturtium, a special type with dark red flowers I was looking forward to, only sways to and fro in the rain. It does not grow.

The two pots of arugula sit side-by-side. The one in the back of this photo is shows some growth, trying its best considering the weather. The other is turning yellow. It is dying before it has had a chance to live.

The lettuce you see behind the arugula grows, but it is limp and tasteless.

Only the anise hyssop, which I grow for the aroma, not food although the leaves are edible, is thriving and there are even buds at the top of the stalks now. Perhaps it was originally a rain forest plant. (I doubt that's true.)

The best thing I can say about the deck farm is that the spiders are amazing to watch. They are tiny, little red things, their bodies no more than about an eighth of an inch in diameter, so their brains must be the size of a molecule. Nevertheless, they are clever at finding places for their webs that are protected from the rain.

I am not generally a sun person. I cross the street to walk on the shady side. I have never lain in the sun to tan, ever. And I am miserable in hot weather – humid or dry – so I'm better off with this anomaly than the heat the rest of you have. Still – it's enough now. Enough. Does anyone know what the opposite of a rain dance is?

At The Elder Storytelling Place today, Judy Vaughn: Envisioning Cancer.