Rain is the most predominant memory of August. Rain on top of rain that left small lakes (we’re beyond trivial puddles at this stage) and rivers in the garden.  Our rule here at Crofton (and for the suburb of Sandford) is that we never complain about rain.  We are on tank water and in a dry area, so to complain about rain is to basically whinge about your source of life.  Perhaps it is a good excuse to not have to work in the garden.  A forced holiday.  It is always amusing when Jenny can’t work in the garden.  She does not take to stopping and resting well.  Even as…