Holding It Together: Water, Rhythm, and Shoulder Strength

 The garden — and the body — both need attention right now. May in southeast Ireland has been hot and dry, and that pressure shows up in the soil, in the plants, and in my own frame. Every day feels like an act of balance: conserving water, shaping growth, and keeping my shoulders from locking up.

Transpiration and Tray Rotation

Container plants demand constant care in this heat. If I leave them dry for even a day, they start to wilt — some practically collapse. I’ve set up as many of them as I can in plates or trays that catch runoff. I water from the top, let it drain through the soil, and pool in the tray. From there, the plant pulls moisture back up through transpiration.

An Eryngium sitting in a shallow tray of water, showing bottom watering and the transpiration cycle

Transpiration is the natural process where water travels from the roots, up through the plant, and exits as vapor from tiny pores (stomata) in the leaves. This upward draw creates internal suction, which keeps the plant hydrated as long as water is available at the roots — even from below.

With water stores running low — under 200 litres of rainwater left — I’ve created a plate swap system:

1. Water one pot from the top.

2. Let the tray fill.

3. Move the tray to another dry container.

4. Let that plant draw moisture up from the bottom.

Slow but efficient. It lets me stretch limited water across more plants with less waste. And it keeps the rhythm of the garden alive, even under pressure.

Rhythm in the Long Border

In the new long border, I’m planting with structure — but also with rhythm, like a poem unfolding in the soil. At the back, I’m laying out Sambucus and Buddleia, all grown from cuttings I propagated myself.

The sequence reads like a stanza:

• Sambucus 'Black Lace'

• Buddleia 'Black Knight'

• Sambucus 'Milk Chocolate'

• Buddleia 'White Bouquet'

• Sambucus 'Black Lace'

• Fuchsia 'Mrs Popple'

• Sambucus 'Milk Chocolate'

The Buddleias are a subtle kind of rhyme — same size, same form, same silver-green foliage. But the blooms differ: one deep violet, the other bright white. Visually, it’s a rhythm. Repetition with contrast. Form echoed, but never identical.

Long border layout featuring alternating Sambucus and Buddleia plants for a rhythmic visual effect

Just beyond the formal border is a wild slope, untamed. A native Sambucus nigra flowers heavily in May, casting light shade and sending its scent into the garden. It feels like an overture — the wild version of what I’m cultivating. It stands just behind the design, anchoring it, echoing it, making it feel like part of something older.

Wild Sambucus nigra,  in full flower mid-May

Shoulders and Stillness: Hanging as Rehab

Even as I manage the garden’s stress, I’m working on my own — especially in my shoulders.

Today I performed dead hangs from a bar I’ve mounted across a door frame. It’s part of a rehab approach developed by Dr. John Kirsch, who advocates for shoulder healing through hanging and light weight training instead of surgery.

His research shows that passive hanging helps reshape the shoulder joint, opening space, realigning the capsule, and resolving issues like:

• Shoulder impingement

• Rotator cuff tightness

• Frozen shoulder

I hang in short sessions, letting gravity do the work — decompressing the shoulder, breathing through the stretch. I also stretch throughout, and use a massage gun before and between sets of weightlifting to stay mobile and reduce tension.

A person performing a dead hang from a doorway bar, showing relaxed posture and shoulder decompression

Dead hangs have become part of the same rhythm as watering and planting — a daily act of attention. They’re slow. Quiet. Effective. They’re not about gain, but about recovery. About holding things together. Just like the plants, I’m pulling upward from tension, trying to stay hydrated — physically, mentally, emotionally — with what I have.