I HAVE got to talk about it because it really was the event of the week. I am talking about the incredible storm last Sunday morning that literally rolled in out of the blue. It was one of those moments in time where everyone remembers what they were doing when it struck and has their own adrenaline-filled story to tell.

For my part though, it wasn't the frantic sweeping, bucket swapping and desperate sandbagging that sticks in my mind the most. It was the force of the initial impact and the power of nature that shook me.

I had spent the early part of the morning watching a pair of spotted flycatchers and their smart young juvenile snapping at passing insects from a distant telegraph pole. Now and again, the young one would bolt over and land on my garage roof. From there, it would perform its dancing, ducking and diving routine, hunting out midges, flies and moths. Then it would rush back to join its parents. I guess it was trying to test out small stabs of independence.

As I watched the spectacle, I noticed a bit of a breeze rustling up, but thought little more of it until I stepped outside to feed the guinea pigs.

As I glanced over the back wall I noticed a big bank of angry looking clouds making its way speedily towards me. I watched it roll in up through the valley, turning the sky dark and ominous. The rooks in the large sycamores had (mercifully) gone quiet. The swifts and house martins that had commandeered the air currents all summer were nowhere to be seen. Even the cheeky bunch of blue tits had fled the peanut feeder and sought shelter.

At first, it appeared to be raining leaves. They were being whipped off the large trees and thrown onto the ground. The lawn quickly resembled late autumn.

Then came the hail, obliterating petals and smashing through the larger leaves. The rain that followed was certainly enough to prevent anyone from moaning at having to water the garden ever again.

An hour or so later, once the sun had come back out to play, I wandered around the garden surveying the damage.

Despite the aggressive nature of the storm, there was comparatively little destruction. The water lilies were the worst victims. They had been torn to shreds by the bullet-like drops of ice. You could see the puncture wounds where each hailstone had shot through the large leaves. The main body of the plant was untouched though, and more leaves would soon grow to replace the tattered ones. Other plants were drooping, but they would bounce back in time.

Taking five minutes out to sit down on a still damp bench and recover from the shock and flipside of the adrenaline rush, I noticed that the spotted flycatcher had survived the onslaught. It hopped over and perched in the tree just above my head. I am sure that it was checking to make sure that I had come through the storm unscathed too. Nature can be just as gentle as she is harsh.

JOBS TO BE DOING IN THE GARDEN THIS WEEK

Divide irises

Overcrowded clumps of bearded iris can be divided and replanted this month. Pull, snap or cut the large swollen 'roots' apart, making sure each piece has a supply of roots. Plant in sandy compost and water just before drying out.

Trim pyracantha

Wall trained plants can be shorn of most of this summer's growth so that the berries can be seen clearly. This also prevents the plant growing out of bounds, or becoming susceptible to wind damage.

Sow Japanese onions

Sow seeds of these large, juicy white onions either directly into the ground, or into compost-filled pots for transplanting next month.

EVENT OF THE WEEK

Come and watch me and the Radio Cleveland crew at Bishop Auckland Cricket Club tomorrow, as we take on the cast of Emmerdale, from 1pm. Tickets can be bought on the door or from Radio Cleveland.

* 'Ask about Gardening' is on 95FM BBC Radio Cleveland on Sundays from 12-2pm.

Published: 16/08/2003