Cause for Pause

JUNE 20, 2011 8:48PM

If it dies, it dies.

Rate: 3 Flag

A LETTER TO MY YARD, PLANTS, POND and GARDEN:

 

I'm tired of watering.

 I've had it with this unrelenting and oppressive heat.  It does no good whatsoever because the ground is too parched. Even if it does, the damn pill bugs and ants, and now crickets and grasshoppers...thrive on your leaves, stems and roots.

You were supposed to be my Prized Vegetable Garden, remember?

Yeah, that means you, Squash. And you, Cucumbers. If only the two of you could just TRY to emulate the jalapeños. Look how they produce! Can't pick those beautiful, green peppers fast enough. Like the daylilies and blue plumbago and asparagus ferns, they have no earthly idea that so much around them is scorched and struggling to survive.

 

Plumbago

 

You, too, POND. Sit there and stagnate. I'm tired of watering you, too, only to watch SUN  and WIND lap up your depth as soon as I turn off the hose, day after day after day. Something got the goldfish long ago and the only things left are rosy minnows and a baby water snake who will have them for lunch as soon as I go inside.

 I'm tired of watering.

 It's entirely too hot and I'm not cut out to be a farmer, anyway.

If it dies, it dies. That's what I've said for the past three, Feels-Like 108 degree days, but I still play "Drag the Hose" day in and day out. Every day. Twice a day. Sometimes, three.

 You KNOW I think it's a sin to sweat, but your faded and down-turned leaves cry out. I've watched the old growth trees that stand 20 feet from a tidal bayou, die, leaf by leaf. Even the crêpe myrtles are scorched.

You are slowly becoming one, big, giant match-stick.

 

 

 

I might change my mind, though, and if I do...you can thank the TOMATOES. Two of them turned pink today.....

 

 

 Hotflash: RAIN, who has been en absentia since March, has no empathy nor does it feel rejection.  Like an errant and miscreant child, RAIN seems to have forgotten its roots. It fell in love with New England and refuses to come home.

 

I can hear those displaced droplets mocking me from here:  If it dies, it dies.

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Harsh but totally understandable. Im trying to get rid of some big tubs of bamboo before the heat hits us here. I just can't afford the water. It is getting down to triage. Which plant gets to live and which plant has to suffer and die. Too much responsibility for me. sigh. Gardening used to be such fun. Great post!
I hear you, zanelle. This is my first attempt at a vegetable garden and it's all I can do to keep everything alive. Can't do it much longer unless Rain decides to grace us with more than a 3-minute sprinkle. There's too much, even in my little yard.

I just keep pulling up parched flower beds in hopes of a fall garden. We'll see what hurricane season brings. Hopefully, nothing.

Bamboo is sooo hearty and has shown zero stress here, so far. I use the longer, sturdier stalks as stakes which you can see propping up the tomatoes.

Thanks for the read.
Yeah I think I speak to my plants too....ni I do speak with my plants and I give them the same kind of talking too. Funny how we are isn't it?
My favorite encouragement, Algis, passed on to two generations is:

"Grow, Little Darlin'... grow."
So there. Roses are pushy, too. Try raising them on a balcony ten flights up--it's nothing but, "I'm scared of heights!"



Veggie-tastic.
It's now mid-September and the vegetable garden was pulled up long ago because hose watering had almost no effect. Old-growth trees and towering pines that line my street like cathedral arches are turning brown, one by one and day by day.

Fortunately, I'm near the coast where the heinous Texas wildfires have kept their distance.