For the last month I felt like I was gardening in a blast furnace. Our daily temperatures hovered in the high 90’s and even reached above a 100 several times.

We had record-breaking heat and hardly any rain. The plants, as well as myself, felt the pain. I struggled to move from my chair under the porch fan. The weeds gloried in their freedom, knowing I haven’t the energy to remove them. Most days, I only looked at the garden from the shade and the only energy I had was for reading novels.

Now that the temperatures have dropped, I’m back at work and loving it. Many of our plants are burned to a crisp from the intense heat. Some like the hosta, are easy to renew. Hosta leaves grow in layers and if the damaged leaves are removed the underneath layer of foliage looks great. Check out the difference in the pictures below.

Many of the top leaves of this hosta are sunburned.

After clipping off the damaged leaves, the hosta looks good as new.

Another hosta with damaged leaves waiting for its haircut.

The hosta look just like new after the clean-up.

Last summer, the summer of 2009, was not a good year for tomatoes. Besides being too rainy and too cool, critters attacked. I found bites in all the nearly-ripe large tomatoes. The thief left the cherry tomatoes alone. I would have swapped him all the cherries for one Brandywine.

I have lots of suspects-rabbits, birds, squirrels, raccoons and rats. I never was able to catch a glimpse of an animal attacking the fruit. I was at a loss as to how to fix the problem until a friend emailed me pictures of her solution, a raised bed that was completely screened. It is so clever and good looking to boot.

A rhododendron that was hit by a falling tree branch.

Everyone is in favor of helping those less fortunate than ourselves, but sometimes we forget that plants too can have disabilities. Last winter a huge branch from a tulip tree fell on a Rhododendron breaking off all of its branches except one.  I thought it was a sorry sight—so distorted. I assumed I would replace it in the spring.  Once spring came, I changed my mind. I have never seen such bloom—all along the one lonely branch. It certainly was trying harder. New shoots are sprouting as well.

I decided I would point it out to garden snobs when they visit and tell them I was training it to be an arch. The truth is it doesn’t really matter what you do in a garden as much as how you rhapsodize about it.