A year with a cheap rain gauge

Last August I screwed a plastic rain gauge to the fence post by the shed. It cost less than a coffee. I have read it most mornings since.

The funnel cracked twice in frost and once when a pigeon decided it was a perch. Each time I lost a few days of readings.

What I learned

The wettest month was not the one I expected. A long grey spring felt wetter than it was; a single summer week of storms delivered more than the whole of April.

The habit was worth more than the numbers. Going out first thing to read the gauge means I notice the garden every day.