Welcome to austinagrodolce … My family and I garden with more intention and enthusiasm than allocated budget or overall design plan. It shows. Wildlife populations don't seem to notice our lack of cohesive design, they just like the native plants here. It seems by growing local we've thrown out a welcome mat. Occasionally, we're surprised at who (and what) shows up.
Friday, August 16, 2013
This is not new to our area and there are folks here who simply let their lawns go unwatered in the summertime, resulting in a predictably sere look. After we'd taken our grassy lawn out however, we'd gone to the trouble to fill the spaces with natives and close neighbors that would hopefully support a variety of bugs, birds and other critters. So we weren't really OK with the idea of watching it all die off, even seasonally.
And yes, the natives do tolerate the heat and low water pretty well but there aren't many of them that tolerate heat and NO water, which is what the end of July through mid August had on offer.
A final note, apropos of nothing else?
garlic chives (Allium tuberosum) in several spots in my garden beds. Not because they tolerate the heat (though they do), not because I use them in cooking (which I don't often enough), but rather because they do this on occasion:
Monday, August 5, 2013
In my head I (generously) characterize this process as Surveying My Domain. And in my defense, this surveying is in part care taking. I do often take the opportunity to note what is working and what is not.
When I go out after dinner with a glass of wine and find a spot to sit and stare it is really mostly about rolling around in self-aggrandizement. I can call it "appreciating". It could just as accurately be called "gloating". I look around and oh, people. What I see is so so good. And it feels good. Very good.
At times, I swell with pride. And we all know what pride comes before.
Yesterday, after the heat and humidity had relented the slightest bit, I went outside with my glass of wine to gaze about and be happy in my surroundings.
It was perfect, except for the intermittent distraction of a loud droning. This was not the cicadas or the tree frogs, it was a motor of some sort. It sounded louder than lawn equipment and it kept coming and going. And it was everywhere at once, because, as I slowly realized, it was coming from overhead.
I started. I squawked. I spilled much of my lovely glass of red wine all over myownself. I resignedly put down my nearly emptied glass and went to get my camera to try and capture the sky riders. I only took the littlest while, but as I was taking photos of the paragliders and then oooh! the clouds themselves, the red wine spots were drying themselves into my clothes.
Which brings me to today. Today I am soaking and dabbing and whiling away the hours watching red spots fade, slightly, to dark blueish spots. My memory of the incident may recede with time but I'm pretty sure those wine stains are a permanent feature.