We keep records of rain here in the Botanic Garden. We have a little rain collection pot with measurements on the side, and record whenever there is any rain, every day. We have accurate records for here of the rainfall from each day of the last twenty years. The total rainfall for the year so far is 329mm, while last year up to this point (September 7th) 692mm of rain had fallen. It’s been so dry, although right now I hear what sounds like all the water in the world angrily hurling itself at Bristol. Who knows what will happen next year; it feels like we’ve reached a stage of hyper unpredictability, the seasons just aren’t being the seasons I remember. Normal is changing. Is normal very wet weather, or very dry weather, or very windy weather? Gone are March winds and April showers, in are named storms and record temperatures.
There is a phenomenon known as ‘shifting baseline syndrome’ where what we perceive as how things should be changes generation by generation. Historically the seasons have been reliable, often seen as a metaphor for life with the Anglo Saxon monk Byrhtferth of Ramsey categorising the year as, childhood, adolescence, adulthood, old age; and the Venerable Bede describing distinct and reliable periods, “Feower tida synd getealde on anum geare” (Four seasons are numbered in one year). This has been a norm and a baseline for thousands of years, but I think there’s an argument that we could rethink our seasons here in the UK. We never know what to expect. Last year we had three named storms in a month wreaking havoc early in the year; this year long periods of dry weather. Winter is a long autumn with maybe a freeze or two mixed in, summer is warmer and dotted with extreme temperatures (for Bristol). The temperature is going up and bit by bit we’re getting used to it.
Illustration of Clym cutting furze in Return of the Native.
Shifting baselines are happening with the biodiversity of our landscape too. Thomas Hardy was a good recorder of weather and wildlife, chronicling the season’s comings and goings with beautiful prose. In Return of the Native, he describes the process of furze (gorse) cutting:
“Each stroke of his scythe made the brittle stems crack and fly, and scattered the living creatures that had chosen the spot for their home. Lizards, snakes, rabbits, mice, flew helter-skelter over the adjoining bushes; and Clym felt a thrill of pride at the power he exerted over these wild things.”
Hardy is a reliable witness, this mass disruption of wildlife must have been what happened when gorse was cut in the mid-1800s, a scurrying exodus that would be unthinkable today. This year in the Garden we became excited at the arrival of blue butterflies, and that is our baseline.
Beatrix Potter was another keen observer of nature and a highly skilled scientist (but unrecognised by the Linnaean society as they said “it was not proper for a woman” to be writing scientific papers). In her journal she wrote:
“I am very fond of natural history, and all the little wild things. I used to catch mice and tame them, and I had a dormouse that lived in my pocket.”
A young Beatrix Potter holding a dormouse in her open hand.
Today dormice are extremely rare, threatened by habitat loss and competition for food. Beatrix Potter would have experienced wildflower meadows, hedgerows, woodlands, and wetlands in the Lake District and her journals showed wonderful illustrations of fungi, small mammals, birds, and insects. Today the baseline has changed with overgrazing, among other things, fragmenting the habitats that were home to the diversity she knew and loved.
I’ve had people say to me “what a lovely summer we’ve had, it must be amazing being a gardener in this weather”. I want to say it’s been warm, and cracked, and sunny, and dry, and waterless, and lovely, and plants have died, and limbs have fallen off trees, and we’ve all felt the sun on our faces, and reservoirs have drained, and wildlife has died, and a new baseline has been reached. But I think pointing out old baselines is a good way to go, through old texts and stories of our fellow observers from the past. Here is an excellent article about how resetting the baseline for young people by talking about experiences with nature when we were young can be very effective. Aiming for a Beatrix Potter and Thomas Hardy experience of the natural world is the dream, and implanting that dream into young heads could be priceless.
We keep records of rain here in the Botanic Garden. We have a little rain collection pot with measurements on the side, and record whenever there is any rain, every day. We have accurate records for here of the rainfall from each day of the last twenty years. The total rainfall for the year so far is 329mm, while last year up to this point (September 7th) 692mm of rain had fallen. It’s been so dry, although right now I hear what sounds like all the water in the world angrily hurling itself at Bristol. Who knows what will happen next year; it feels like we’ve reached a stage of hyper unpredictability, the seasons just aren’t being the seasons I remember. Normal is changing. Is normal very wet weather, or very dry weather, or very windy weather? Gone are March winds and April showers, in are named storms and record temperatures.
