When the Pacific Changes the Weather

Gardening involves a peculiar optimism. Every autumn, we plant bulbs expecting spring to arrive. Every winter, we prune, clear, divide and prepare for growth that has yet to begin. And every spring, we sow seeds, plant borders and make plans for a summer whose weather remains entirely unknown. We do these things not because we have any special ability to predict the future, but because gardening requires confidence that tomorrow will offer opportunities for the work we do today.

Sometimes that confidence is rewarded. Rain arrives when it is needed, temperatures rise gradually, and the garden progresses through the seasons with a reassuring sense of order. Other times, the weather seems determined to test every decision we have made. A prolonged wet winter delays essential work, an unexpectedly warm March encourages tender growth, and a sharp April frost reminds us that spring is not necessarily a straightforward journey towards summer. By July, we may find ourselves wishing for the rain we complained about only a few months earlier.

For anyone who gardens professionally, these contradictions are particularly familiar. The work must continue, clients have expectations, and the seasonal calendar rarely lets us postpone everything until conditions are ideal. Yet experience gradually teaches us that the most successful gardening is not necessarily the gardening that follows a predetermined schedule most faithfully. It is the gardening that responds intelligently to the conditions actually encountered.

Throughout this series, we have travelled an extraordinary distance. We began in the tropical Pacific, examining how El Niño develops when the ocean and atmosphere depart from their usual relationship. We encountered La Niña, the Southern Oscillation and the remarkable circulation systems connecting tropical weather with events thousands of miles away. We followed those influences towards Britain, where the Atlantic, the jet stream and other atmospheric processes complicate any attempt to predict what a particular ENSO event might mean for our weather.

From there, we entered the natural world, exploring how changing conditions influence flowering, insects, wildlife and soil ecology. Finally, we reached the garden itself, where rainfall, drought, frost and heat become practical questions about roots, drainage, plant health and survival.

We have discovered a great deal about how weather works, but perhaps the most important lesson is that understanding the forces influencing our climate does not give us control over them.

So how should we garden when the next season remains uncertain?

The difference between a resistant garden and a resilient one

When gardeners talk about preparing for difficult weather, the conversation often turns towards resistance. We look for plants that tolerate drought, withstand frost, survive waterlogging or remain upright during strong winds. These are sensible considerations, but they describe only part of what makes a garden successful.

A resistant plant possesses characteristics that help it withstand a particular stress. A resilient garden, however, can absorb disturbance, keep functioning, and recover when conditions improve. The distinction is important because no garden is likely to be equally resistant to every possible difficulty.

A planting scheme composed entirely of drought-tolerant species may perform admirably through a hot, dry summer yet struggle if winter rainfall leaves its roots submerged for weeks. A moisture-loving border may flourish during a wet year but require considerable assistance when prolonged dry weather arrives. Even plants considered exceptionally hardy can suffer if unusual warmth encourages early growth before a damaging frost.

Resilience therefore involves more than choosing tough plants. It requires us to consider the garden as a complete living system, including the condition of its soil, the distribution of moisture, the variety of plants present and the opportunities available for recovery.

A garden with healthy soil, appropriate planting, and several different growing environments has more ways to respond to difficult conditions than one that depends on a narrow range of species or a single set of assumptions about the weather.

This does not mean eliminating every vulnerability. Such a task would be neither realistic nor particularly desirable. Gardens are places of beauty, interest and experiment, and a degree of risk is part of their appeal. The objective is to avoid creating unnecessary weaknesses while recognising that occasional losses and disappointments will always accompany cultivation.

Begin with the ground, not the forecast

If there is one place where a gardener can make a lasting contribution to resilience, it is beneath the surface.

Soil is often described primarily in terms of fertility, yet its physical structure matters just as much. Healthy soil contains mineral particles, organic matter, living organisms, and a network of pores that allow water and air to move through it. These characteristics influence how readily rain infiltrates the ground, how much moisture remains available to plants and whether roots can develop sufficiently to explore the surrounding soil.

Good soil structure becomes particularly valuable during difficult seasons. With adequate drainage, excess rainfall can move through the profile rather than remaining around vulnerable roots. During dry weather, suitable soil structure and organic matter can help maintain access to moisture, although the extent of that benefit depends upon the soil type and other conditions.

Organic matter contributes to soil structure, biological activity and nutrient cycling. Compost, decomposed plant material and suitable mulches can therefore play useful roles in maintaining productive garden soil. But don’t treat compost as a miraculous solution to every problem.

Adding organic matter will not automatically correct a severely compacted subsoil, overcome an unsuitable drainage outlet or transform every heavy clay into freely draining ground. Equally, incorporating large quantities of material without considering the soil’s existing condition can produce disappointing results.

The starting point should always be observation. Does the ground remain wet long after rainfall? Does the surface crust or become hard during summer? Are roots penetrating deeply, or do they remain confined to a shallow layer? Does water soak in readily, or does it collect in depressions and run across the surface?

These questions tell us much more about a garden’s needs than a general announcement that the coming winter may be wetter or drier than average.

Perhaps the most important practical discipline is also one of the least glamorous: protecting the soil from unnecessary damage. Working or repeatedly walking on saturated ground can destroy the pore spaces we depend upon for drainage and aeration. Heavy machinery, concentrated foot traffic and cultivation undertaken at the wrong time may create problems that persist for several seasons.

Sometimes, leaving the soil undisturbed is not a failure to garden. It is good gardening.

Manage water in both directions.

British gardeners have traditionally spent a considerable amount of time trying to remove unwanted water from their gardens. In other years, the challenge is keeping enough moisture in the ground to sustain growth. Increasingly, it makes sense to consider these problems together rather than treating drainage and drought as entirely separate subjects.

Water management begins with understanding where rain falls, where it travels and where it can be stored or absorbed. Roofs, paths, paved areas and compacted surfaces can concentrate runoff, while borders, lawns and other permeable areas offer opportunities for infiltration.

Water butts and other rainwater-harvesting arrangements can provide useful supplies for containers, seedlings and selected plants during dry spells. Their contribution depends upon storage capacity and demand, however, and a small water butt should not be mistaken for a complete drought-management system.

Mulching can help reduce evaporation from exposed soil, moderate surface temperature fluctuations and suppress competing weeds. Organic mulches may also improve soil as they decompose. Their effectiveness depends on appropriate materials, application, and existing moisture conditions, and they should not be piled against vulnerable stems or trunks.

Where drainage is genuinely inadequate, more substantial measures may sometimes be necessary. But these should follow a proper understanding of the cause of waterlogging. Installing drainage without considering soil permeability, levels, outlets and the surrounding landscape can move the problem elsewhere or fail to resolve it.

In some gardens, accepting a naturally damp area and planting accordingly may be more practical than attempting to make every square metre behave like a dry border.

Likewise, a sunny bank with shallow, freely draining soil may suit drought-adapted planting better than a collection of moisture-demanding perennials requiring constant attention.

A resilient garden does not need uniform conditions. It benefits from using the conditions it already possesses intelligently.

Plant diversity is a form of insurance.

Something is reassuring about a garden in which every plant has been chosen for a clear purpose. Yet if those choices are all based upon the same assumptions, the garden may become unusually vulnerable when circumstances change.

Imagine a border planted almost entirely with species requiring consistently moist soil. During a favourable year, it may look magnificent. During a prolonged drought, however, much of the planting may suffer simultaneously. The opposite problem can arise where an entire scheme depends upon species intolerant of winter saturation.

A more varied planting arrangement can spread some of that risk.

Plants differ in rooting depth, seasonal growth patterns, moisture requirements, exposure tolerance and their ability to recover after stress. Combining suitable species with complementary characteristics may help maintain structure, interest, and ecological resources even when particular plants struggle.

This does not mean assembling a random collection of plants in the hope that some will survive. Compatibility remains essential. A drought-tolerant plant requiring sharp drainage should not go into permanently wet soil to increase diversity, nor should a moisture-loving species be expected to flourish on an exposed, dry bank without additional support.

Instead, diversity should operate within the conditions of each planting area.

A garden might contain a sheltered woodland border, a sunny herbaceous bed, a damp hollow and an exposed boundary. Each presents different opportunities, and recognising those differences allows you to grow a wider range of plants without forcing them into unsuitable environments.

Genetic diversity also matters. When many plants share the same genetic characteristics, they may respond similarly to particular pests, diseases, or environmental stresses. Using a broader range of appropriate species and cultivars can sometimes reduce the likelihood of a single problem affecting an entire planting scheme.

Diversity doesn’t guarantee it will prevent damage, but it can give a garden more chances to keep functioning when conditions get difficult.

A calendar is a guide, not an instruction.

One of the most persistent temptations in gardening is to treat the seasonal calendar as an authority rather than a reference.

We learn that certain jobs belong to particular months. Pruning, sowing, dividing, planting, and feeding fit into a familiar annual sequence, and understanding those traditional timings has real value.

The difficulty arises when the weather refuses to cooperate.

A mild February does not necessarily mean that tender plants should be placed outside, just as a cold March does not mean every gardening task must stop. The right timing depends on the plant, the soil, the immediate forecast, and the conditions in the garden itself.

Soil temperature can matter more for germination than the date printed on a seed packet. Soil moisture and workability may determine whether cultivation is sensible. A shrub’s developmental stage may matter more for pruning than the month when the gardener happens to have an afternoon available.

Professional gardening makes this flexibility especially important. A schedule may need to be rearranged because the ground is too wet for machinery. After all, nesting birds may actively use a hedge, or prolonged heat may make transplanting unnecessarily risky.

Such changes are not evidence of poor planning. They show the plan is being adapted to reality.

A gardener who understands why a task should be undertaken is better equipped to decide when to undertake it.

And sometimes the correct decision is to wait.

Observation is a skill worth cultivating.

Modern gardening advice is readily available, and weather forecasts provide information that previous generations could scarcely have imagined. We can examine rainfall radar, compare temperature predictions and receive warnings of frost, strong winds or extreme heat.

These tools are valuable, but they do not replace knowledge of the garden itself.

A forecast temperature recorded for a nearby town may not describe the conditions in a sheltered courtyard or an exposed field. Rainfall totals from a regional weather station may differ considerably from what you experience locally. A frost warning may matter most for a low-lying garden where cold air collects, while a nearby elevated site remains unaffected.

Over time, gardeners learn to read these differences. We learn which border dries first, where frost tends to linger, which plants emerge early, and which areas stay wet after prolonged rainfall.

Recording these observations makes them more useful.

A simple garden diary can include the first flowering of familiar plants, dates of damaging frosts, unusually wet or dry periods, planting successes and failures, and changes in soil conditions. Photographs taken from the same locations at similar times each year can reveal patterns that memory alone may overlook.

You don’t need to turn every garden into a scientific research station. Even modest records can help distinguish recurring problems from exceptional events.

And for those wishing to contribute to a wider understanding of seasonal change, established recording projects such as the Woodland Trust’s Nature’s Calendar provide opportunities to share observations of flowering, leaf emergence and wildlife activity.

The value of observation lies in improving decisions, not in creating an illusion of certainty.

Learning from losses without becoming ruled by them

Every experienced gardener has a collection of disappointments.

Some plants never established properly, shrubs were lost during unusually severe winters, trees struggled through drought, and carefully prepared borders failed to develop as expected. Some failures are obvious, while others remain frustratingly difficult to explain.

The temptation is to attribute every loss to the most memorable weather event of the year. A dry summer becomes responsible for every declining shrub, while a wet winter is blamed for every perennial that fails to reappear.

Sometimes that explanation is correct. Other times, the plant may have been growing in unsuitable soil, suffered root damage during planting, encountered disease, or experienced several smaller stresses whose combined effects were not immediately apparent.

Good gardening requires a willingness to investigate rather than merely react.

If a plant fails repeatedly in the same location, replacing it with another identical specimen may not be the most sensible response. Examining drainage, soil structure, exposure and competition from neighbouring roots may reveal an underlying difficulty.

Similarly, losing a single plant during an exceptional event does not necessarily justify removing every other example of that species from the garden.

There is a difference between learning from experience and allowing the last bad year to dictate every future decision.

Resilience develops through accumulated understanding, and accumulated understanding includes accepting that some outcomes will remain uncertain.

Gardening with wildlife rather than around it

The ecological relationships explored earlier in this series also have practical consequences for how we manage gardens.

Plants do not exist independently of the organisms around them. Flowers provide nectar and pollen, foliage supports herbivorous insects, and those insects contribute to food webs involving birds, mammals and other wildlife. Soil organisms break down organic material, while fungi and bacteria participate in nutrient cycling and the soil’s broader functioning.

A garden designed solely around the immediate appearance of its plants may overlook these relationships.

Allowing appropriate areas of vegetation to remain undisturbed, retaining some suitable seedheads through winter, providing a succession of flowering plants and avoiding unnecessary pesticide use can all contribute to a more varied garden environment.

Such measures should be considered thoughtfully. Not every pile of debris is a valuable wildlife habitat, and leaving diseased plant material in place may sometimes be inappropriate. Wildlife-friendly gardening also doesn’t require abandoning maintenance or accepting every plant and insect without question.

The objective is to recognise that a functioning garden contains more than its ornamental planting.

Water availability, shelter and continuity of habitat can become particularly important during difficult weather. A shallow, regularly maintained water source may help wildlife during dry periods, while suitable vegetation can provide refuge from heat, wind and disturbance.

These interventions will not prevent every ecological consequence of unusual weather. They can, however, create conditions in which a wider variety of organisms can survive and recover.

And a garden that supports a richer community of life is often a more interesting place to work.

What can seasonal forecasts tell us?

After travelling so far through the science of ENSO, it would be disappointing to conclude that seasonal forecasts have no practical value. Fortunately, that is not the case.

Seasonal forecasting estimates how the probabilities of weather conditions may differ from their usual patterns over weeks or months. Ocean temperatures, atmospheric circulation and other large-scale influences contribute to these assessments.

El Niño and La Niña are important components of this wider picture, but their influence on Britain is neither simple nor consistent. Other factors, particularly those operating over the North Atlantic and surrounding regions, can substantially affect the eventual outcome.

For a gardener, a seasonal forecast might justify paying closer attention to a particular risk. If credible evidence suggests an increased likelihood of unusually wet conditions, checking vulnerable drainage areas and ensuring water-management arrangements are functioning would be reasonable precautions.

But that is quite different from assuming the forecast guarantees a wet winter.

Similarly, an indication of increased drought risk might encourage a gardener to inspect water-storage arrangements, consider the needs of recently planted trees and review how exposed containers will be managed.

These are sensible preparations because they remain useful even if the forecast does not materialise.

The danger comes when people treat probabilistic information as certainty. Seasonal forecasts cannot reliably identify the date of a damaging frost in an individual garden or guarantee the amount of rainfall that will arrive during a particular month.

Shorter-range forecasts and actual observations remain more appropriate for immediate decisions, while seasonal outlooks provide broader context.
In other words, we should use forecasts to improve awareness rather than surrender our judgement to them.

The garden as a long-term undertaking

Perhaps the greatest difficulty with gardening for uncertainty is that gardens develop over years, while our attention is often captured by the weather of the current season.

A tree planted today may remain in place for decades. A hedge may take several years to establish its intended structure. A newly created border will change as plants mature, compete and respond to the conditions they encounter.

Decisions made in one season therefore influence the opportunities and limitations of many seasons to come.

This makes long-term thinking especially valuable. Selecting a tree involves considering its mature size, rooting environment, exposure and suitability for the site, rather than merely how attractive it appears in a container.

Establishing a hedge requires attention to soil preparation, watering during establishment and the eventual demands of maintenance.

Even comparatively small decisions can accumulate. Repeated soil compaction may gradually undermine drainage, while regular additions of suitable organic matter and careful cultivation can help support soil structure over time.

A garden’s resilience isn’t something you can buy in a single nursery visit or create in one weekend of improvement.

It develops through consistent, thoughtful management.

This is also why the most successful gardens are not necessarily those that look immaculate every day of the year. A mature garden may contain seasonal gaps, plants recovering from damage, and areas deliberately allowed to develop at their own pace. These characteristics are not always maintenance failures.

Sometimes they show a garden managed with an understanding of its living processes rather than an expectation of permanent perfection.

What six episodes have taught us

We began this series with a question that seemed almost impossibly distant from everyday gardening: what happens when the waters of the tropical Pacific become unusually warm or unusually cool?

The answer led us into one of the most remarkable relationships in Earth’s climate system.

El Niño and La Niña are not simply changes in sea temperature. They involve interactions between the ocean and atmosphere that influence tropical rainfall, atmospheric circulation and weather patterns across large parts of the world.

Through teleconnections, those changes can affect regions far beyond the Pacific, although the strength, timing and character of the influence vary considerably.

For Britain, the relationship is particularly complicated. The Atlantic Ocean, the jet stream, the North Atlantic Oscillation and other atmospheric processes play major roles in determining our weather. ENSO may influence the probabilities of particular seasonal conditions, but it does not provide a dependable description of the winter or summer that an individual garden will experience.

We then discovered that weather is not simply something plants and wildlife endure. It shapes their development, influences the timing of biological events and affects the relationships connecting organisms within an ecosystem.

Finally, we examined the consequences for the garden itself: the difficulties of waterlogged soil, the demands of drought, the vulnerability of tender growth to frost and the importance of healthy root systems.

The practical conclusion is not that gardeners should ignore the wider climate system. Understanding it helps us appreciate why seasonal conditions vary and why confident predictions deserve scrutiny.

But the greatest opportunities for improving a garden lie much closer to home.

We can protect soil structure, choose plants suited to their locations, manage water more thoughtfully, encourage ecological diversity and adapt our work to the conditions we encounter. We can observe, record, experiment and learn from both successes and failures.

None of these actions guarantees that a garden will escape the consequences of extreme or unusual weather. Together, however, they can improve its ability to withstand disturbance and recover.

The wisdom of an uncertain future

There is a temptation, particularly in an age when information is available almost instantly, to believe that a sufficiently sophisticated prediction must eventually solve every uncertainty.

Gardening teaches a rather different lesson.

We can understand the science of soil, recognise the needs of plants and study the atmospheric processes influencing our weather. We can consult forecasts, examine historical records and make increasingly informed decisions. Yet seasons will always surprise us.

A late frost will occasionally arrive after tender growth has begun. A carefully selected plant will sometimes fail despite our best efforts. Rain will fall when we least want it, and disappear when we most need it.

Knowledge does not eliminate these possibilities. It is to help us respond to them more intelligently.

That conclusion is reassuring. It means good gardening does not depend on having a perfect forecast or correctly guessing the behaviour of the Pacific Ocean. It depends upon understanding the ground beneath our feet, the living things entrusted to our care and the limits of what we can reasonably control.

The experienced gardener does not stop making plans because the future is uncertain. Plans remain essential. But experience encourages us to make them with enough flexibility to accommodate circumstances that may turn out differently than we expected.

And perhaps that is the most useful lesson El Niño and La Niña can offer us.

The Pacific Ocean will continue its extraordinary cycle of warming and cooling. Atmospheric circulation will respond, weather patterns will change, and scientists will continue improving our understanding of the connections between them.

Meanwhile, in a British garden, someone will examine the soil, watch the sky, and decide whether today is the right day to plant.

The distance between those two worlds is enormous, yet they belong to the same interconnected natural system.

We cannot control the Pacific, and we cannot promise ourselves a favourable season.

But we can build gardens that are better prepared for whatever arrives.

Don’t prepare the garden for the forecast. Prepare it for uncertainty.

Published by The Curious Gardener

A Gardener's Curiosity - It Usually Starts in a Garden …

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