At some point in July, most of us gave up on the lawn.

The average asking price of a newly listed home fell by £7,360 this August—which is a rather substantial sum to mislay while everybody is in Alicante.

You have bought the doer-upper. The surveyor has inspected the roof, tested the damp and produced several alarming paragraphs about the electrics. You know roughly what needs doing inside the house.

Last year, anybody claiming to have grown a watermelon in their back garden would have been met with suspicion. Where exactly was this ‘garden’? Surrey or Senegal? Was there photographic evidence? Had the fruit been observed growing or merely placed beneath a leaf shortly before witnesses arrived?

For weeks now we have gawked at mirages of fluffy rain clouds — doubly sadly they were smoke — watched weather forecasts in the last-chance saloon and treated three spots of rain on the windscreen as a prelude to The Flood — miraculously this only happened at Heathrow… indoors.

The first few hot days are really rather wonderful — we find the barbecue, locate a case of rosé, whack on the tunes and de-clothe to the edge of indecency. Then it gets hotter, and after a week, yet more burnt sausages and severe morning dehydration begin to lose their appeal. Opening the back door brings waves of trepidation and ordinary outdoor activities start requiring tactical planning normally associated with a Bank Holiday in Hatton Garden. There even comes a point where nightly you despair of Tomasz Schafernaker's entire existence.

At 7.30 this morning I noticed a couple at Tesco in Haslemere loading 32 bags of compost into their car. Not three. Not twelve. Thirty-two!

Something has been bothering me in the mornings. Not the sun streaming through the bedroom window at five o'clock, nor the slightly alarming fact that I'm already awake and bouncing towards the window announcing, "Ooh... it's sunny!" -  I've been doing that rather a lot since May!

Last night's Times gardening article on surviving the current drought makes an interesting read because it reinforces one of the central messages running through our recent series of articles: healthy soil is the first line of defence against drought.

A few people have asked why we're starting to publish these themed batches of articles (our intention is now to do one series each month), so I thought I'd explain. The first reason is simply to highlight an important issue affecting our gardens, pass on one or two useful ideas, and hopefully leave you with something worth thinking about without being preachy. If we can sneak in the odd Dad joke and encourage some friendly discussion along the way, even better. The second reason is to explain, without turning it into a sales pitch, what makes Garden Rescue different. We have nothing against routine garden maintenance — it has an important place and this area is well served by excellent gardeners. It simply isn't what we do. Our focus is the long-term health and resilience of gardens. Rather than visiting every week to keep everything tidy, we tend to appear once a month or once a quarter, quietly carrying out the jobs that pay dividends months or even years later.

(Observations from years spent rescuing gardens across Surrey, Hampshire and West Sussex.)

Walk through almost any Surrey, Hampshire or Sussex outdoor space this July, and you'll notice something splendidly peculiar.