The Dry, Dry, Dry Summer of 2026

valeriehuggins0

17 hours ago

4 min read

Before we firmly head into autumn, I want to look back over this extraordinary summer. Here in Devon, after a dry Spring, we had no rain for 45 consecutive days in July and August, which is a UK record. We are still officially in drought. Ironically, this is after the wettest winter on record, with rain every day until early March. It has also been hot on 91 days, with an all-time high of 35.8 C recorded In June, and we had the driest July in Devon sonce records began in 1900. There has been a growing realisation in the UK that the warnings about climate change are being borne out. But is it too late?

In our garden the leaves on well-established plants shrivelled and fell, as they struggled with the double whammy of no water and too much heat. The roses stopped blooming, the grass turned brown. Rainbuts empty, we used grey water from washing to save what plants we could.

Our local fields turned to dust, and we were increasingly concerned about future food security as the farmers resorted to feeding their animals the winter foodstore. In July. The grass verges, shorn far too short by the council mowers, were just patches of despair and the usual bright splash of wildflowers was lacking.

On a walk through the local woods, I was kicking through the fallen dried leaves as if it were mid Autumn. The sycamore keys and the beech nuts were shrivelled and small, the bracken already a gorgeous caramel colour. The introduction of warning notices and fire beaters brought the reality of wildfires to our doorstep:

Views across the Devon countryside were reminiscent of the paintings of Cezanne with the yellowy gold fields and brilliant blue sky:

On our regluar walks on Dartmoor, we noted how the landscape was changed by the heat and the dry:

A return to Emsworthy Mire was strkingliy different to the views we had so enjoyed in the Spring:

As the long. dry, hot spell continued, the water levels in the local rivers dropped. The waters were still, leats dried up and stones and walls emerged. As the Devon Wildlife Trust reported, higher water temperatures, lower oxygen levels and increased pollution had impacts on the whole river ecosystem. Salmon struggled to migrate upstream and fish had to be rescued from the disappearing waters. On the River Lemon, there was just a trickle of water over the weir, not enough to sustain the ecosystem:

The drought also pointed up that in all of our localities there are contested spaces. For instance, a stroll through my local churchyard gives me a view across the valley to the beginnings of a new housing estate which scars the hillside. It is the subject of decade-long, ongoing dispute because of its position next to Wolborough Fen, an SSSI (site of special scientific interest). Residents argue that hard surfaces and excavation work will disrupt the groundwater and aquifer feeding the Fen, threatening rare plant and animal species. And the local water authority admits that it can't provide the infrastructure for the water needed for these homes. And yet, they are still being built. What would our ancestors think of the world we have created, and what's more, what will our grandchildren think of us?

Nicola Chester, in her blog An Ecology of Love and Ruin, wonders if 2026 will go down as the year the UK woke up to Climate Change. I was hopeful, as it dominated the news, and would come up in everyday conversation.

But now it has rained a bit…..the grass is green……and the attention has moved on. The roses are still not flowering though. A recent Devon Wldlife Trust report makes it clear how the extreme changes in weather patterns over the past year have been so damaging to the natural world.

I am part of a local Climate and Nature group and we put on a screening of the Public Emergency Briefing. It sets out the implications of climate and nature breakdown for health, food systems, national security and the economy, along with suggestions for the government's response. There was a powerful discussion afterwards, which revealed how despairing and angry people are about the climate crisis, and hopefully spurred more of us into action in our local communities. For instance, just lobbying the local council to stop mowing the grass in the local park and letting it grow will make a difference. Longer blades of grass retain moisture, provide shade for small creatures, keep soil moist to help the birds dig for worms, while allowing the clover, dandelions and daisies to flower, providing nectar and pollen when it is scarce elsewhere:

Our spirits were also raised a little by going to see a screening of the thought-provoking film Derek v Derek. It documents the relationship between two Devon farmers, both called Derek, with very different views and practices about the way they farm. Derek Gow is a passionate rewilder, who has introduced beavers back into Devon and is now breeding storks, wildcats, voles and even adders. Derek Banbury is a traditional dairy farmer, proud of his tidy hedges. It illustrates so well the challenge of meeting the demands for food for people within the worsening extinction crisis. The discussion after the film was full of positive ideas for change, pushing for locally sourced food and rewilding the land to try and alleviate the extreme impacts of flooding and drought that undoubtably now lie ahead of us.