This morning, I woke to a fine and cool day in Oklahoma after yesterday’s return of the heat wave. I stretched my arms above my head as I sat in bed and told my husband, “Today I will garden.”
“It’s about time. Have fun. We’ll watch the OU game tomorrow and perhaps catch a local car show this weekend if you feel like it.”
As he spoke, my arms came down, and I felt a small, cold knot in the center of my being.
“I am afraid.”
At one time, I would have brushed aside this little voice and soldiered on without listening. But, today was different. I lowered my chin toward my belly button where the small voice repeated, “I am afraid.”
I closed my eyes, took in a deep breath and listened. “Of what?” I asked.
Insistent and fast thoughts tumbled over me.
“The grass, Johnson grass and another nasty bad one, are taking over the bed facing the street.
“Bermuda stretches throughout the soil choking off the plants.
“Some weed I can’t even identify is . . . oh, woe is me.”
I took another deep breath and let it out very slowly. Counted: one . . . two, three, four, five, six and seven.
Then, for inspiration, I went out and really looked at the garden yesterday, taking photos and pulling weedy grasses with both of my gloved hands.
“I’ve seen the long-term drought maps,” my inner child whispered, “I’m not sure I can go through another summer like this only to end up with more weeds and fewer flowers.”
Like a loving mother, I told my inner child the drought may come, the weeds may grow, but we’re in this together.
I feel the same way about you, my friends, who live in the central south, especially Texas and Oklahoma. We are in this together, and we will weather this storm because we are strong just like our German and Irish ancestors and the American Indians who came before us. I have your hand in mine. Let’s go out there and rediscover our love for our land.
I do water from a well – and I just had to jump up and turn off a sprinkler I forgot about. The best gardeners are adept at adapting to their conditions – and that’s just what we all will do!
I am so glad you gardened Dee and then wrote this moving post. I garden on a difficult site and trying to figure out what will survive our changing summer weather has been a challenge~But, not like the one you’ve had. xoxogail
Winston Churchhill said that when you’re going through hell, just keep going. If you see this as an opportunity to edit your plantings to create a garden that is more self-sufficient, it may all seem less painful. I had to do that this year when faced with having to possibly give away a lot of plants that were miserable under the ever-widening canopy of trees on my little property. Have you tried Globe Thistle? It proved very hardy for me this year.
An enchanting and thought provoking post… love it! My heart goes out to all who have endured and now must clean up from drought. Blessings!
Thank you so much Carolyn. I appreciate it. I went back out there and worked my tail feathers off.
Hey Dee,
I’ve seen your garden for over a year now and seen it at its best. You have created such a beautiful place there and I know you’re such a resilient person that you’ll dive in head first next spring with a renewed vigor.
I’d have sent some of our chilly rains if I could.
Thanks for taking my hand…I feel as if I don’t even know where to start. But you’re right, hand in hand, we’ll move forward one step at a time. I think I’ll start today just pulling grass out of the beds and go from there. Thank you 😉
I am emphasise with your inner child. I get overwhelmed sometimes especially when the weather isnt doing it what it should. I have to just start in one corner and plod along and that way it is manageable
I know you will soldier on, Dee–you are a true gardener. I can only imagine how difficult this past year has been for you and all the gardeners in the central South. Let us hope all the predictions are wrong, and that next year gives you some much-needed rain.
So glad to see ‘Wendy’s Wish’ in your garden! I had one last year, but couldn’t find another one in any of the nurseries here this spring (it’s an annual here). Is yours a perennial? It was such a fast-grower and a hummingbird magnet; I’ve put a word in at my favorite nursery, so I’m hoping to see one next year again.
I did soldier on my friend. I bought pumpkins and violas, cabbage and kale. It was great fun.
Oh Dee, I thought your Hubby was going to buy a car and put it in your garden someplace. Ha.. Hang in there. Better years will come by. I feel your pain this year as we had a terrible (for here) drought and I haven’t been in the garden much. The Japanese Aneomones that I count on for blusterous blooms this time of hear have only a few small blooms after we have received some life giving rain this past weekend. Pulling weeds is certainly easier and more efficient after a rain. I hope you get some nice soil softening rain soon. It is scary to think that the drought isn’t over yet.
Lisa, so glad he didn’t. I love cars, but not in my gardens. 🙂
Around here that Celosia can be as weedy as the Bermuda you are afraid of, but at least it is colorful. I hope your weather pattern changes soon, especially for the long term. Surviving one horrid summer can be doable, but when they accumulate gardeners need to be made of strong stuff, and I am sure you are.
Les, I’m sure that’s true about celosia. I showed Bill the crapemyrtle photos on your blog, and he was stunned.
Just the little bit of drought we had in July and August has left me a little fearful. But knowing it is worse for others, I keep my head up and just keep going. I know it could be a lot worse and I pray it won’t be.
Hey, I was in Indy. That was no little drought. It was difficult. It was terrible here because of the heat.
I can only imagine how hard this past summer was for you folks down south Dee. Stay strong and hang in there, for this to shall pass.
Racquel, the heat is nothing but a memory. I’ve been working hard in my gardens polishing them up and getting the grass out of there. Thank you.
Dee: Cool temps help! Dirt and clay under your fingernails will help, too! When I stop to mutter enouragement to a wilting zucchini plant or a very tired morning glory in my gardens (“You’re strong, you can do it. We’ll get through this.”) … I just thank the heavens I don’t have to feed a family on what I can keep alive outside, like our dirt scratching grandmothers and great-grandmothers. How panicked must they have been in the dusty dark 1930s?! We’d definitely be a skinny lot up here at our house.
QUESTION FOR YOU: What are those cute little guys in the foreground of your tropical garden picture? There are two of them. Pointy leaves. Varigated on one side. Purple on the other. Like mini-yuccas with soft leaves. I saw some on one of the Okla garden tours last weekend, but no one seemed to know what they are.
Hi Shanley,
Those little guys in front are variegated Tradescantia bermudensis ‘Variegata’ otherwise known as oyster plant. There is also a yellow variegated one and at least a large purple. I found the yellow one quickly withered and died. These, however, did well, and I planted large ones out front. The large ones are splendid. They are a tropical grown here as an annual. I ought to dig them before the freeze and bring them indoors.
I think some changes are in store over here unless a certain something changes. A week in the 90s. Who would have thought we would cheer for such weather-but dry, dry , dry and that isn’t good. Such a struggle. I love your ‘tropical’ photo. Such vibrant color. A photo that feeds the soul of a gardener.
I know, I was so happy when the weather went down to 95F, and I knew something was wrong. I’m hoping this isn’t a long drought cycle. I do keep thinking about the 1930s. We have rain in the forecast for next weekend. Let’s pray we all get some.
Dee – for a moment, just reading your first line, I thought your fear was going to be HH buying a car at the car show! (From one who has a decrepit MG Midget in her garage, which was actually TOWED to this house the last time it moved!). I know your spirit, you can’t stay afraid, or out of the garden, for long. But I agree, I’ve taken notes about what survived this year, and those who didn’t make it – while still looking good – won’t be planted again next year. This was not a year for the weak and finicky – our plants had to be rugged and tough to get through our Oklahoma drought. I was surprised that even some of my really old established yews gave up.
I’m off to find pansies this afternoon! My HH is not golfing tomorrow (the world may stop spinning) and we’re going to do some cleanup and a little planting. I want some Moulin Rouge pansies – have you seen them anywhere?
Ha ha, Denise, I didn’t think about that. No, no new car since the one he brought home a few months ago, a 1992 Mercedes 500 SL which I love, but it is a nightmare of fix-its.
I bought pansies too. Love them. Actually, I bought violas. I love them more.
Oh my. .I was hoping that the forecast I heard for next summer would be wrong!! I’m with you. .I don’t want to make it through another summer like this past one either!! I’m back to watering everything today. .We had 3/10 about 2-3 weeks ago. Our area has made it into the dark red-exceptional drought zone. ICK!! Hang in there!
Melanie, for myself, I won’t be investing in any very expensive trees and shrubs this fall although I’ve lost at least three hollies. Live and learn.
Dear honey-bunny, I nod like crazy. Then I think: Look how far you have come. We can do whatever we need to do, and we can rest in between. Thank you for the beautiful post.
I know, I gotcha Curtiss Ann, my dear friend. We are resilient women, and thank God I don’t pump water from a well.
Dee, I want to give you a hug! Such essence of being alive in these days of change and challenge I find in your writing. It does remind me of the writings of the women of the dust bowl days, from whom I learned so much. It is important to capture the ebb and flow of today. Thank you. My blog ‘Digging Dakota’ will be up in November, thanks to your inspiration.
Susan, I’m so excited for your new blog. Congrats. Can’t wait to visit it and you.
YES!!!!!! Your thoughts reminded me so much of passages from Sarah’s Quilt. So all I have to say is, “Amen Sister!”
Debbie, I went out there and worked my tail feathers off. It’s looking a lot better.
Very insightful, Dee. And so nice and comforting to get a pat on the head from you, my friend. I’m so excited about only 90F today and doing something in the garden besides hand watering. Enjoy your adventure today — your garden looks so lush and tropical – I love all those colors. I hope they perk you up today.
Thank you Diana. I think it’s important we share our truth as I know you do too. Hang in there. I’m sending cooler air.
So heartfelt and moving! So relateable. Last year my garden burned up during our excessive drought and temps in 100s. This year it’s been a struggle to keep things from drowning as foot after foot after foot after foot of rain has assaulted us since the beginning of Aug. Such horrendous extremes. But in the garden and out we will all get through!
Thank you Jo so much. It’s been a terrible summer, but fall is here again.
We’re all afraid here in Texas, Dee. But we’ll keep gardening anyway. That’s courage.
Pam, I know. I had the Austinites in mind when I was writing. It will get better, or we’ll adapt.
I’m glad you said this out loud. I’m afraid, too. I think we are indeed in for another summer like this. I’m re-thinking my approach to the garden this winter as a result. I need to plant things that can get established without much water, in high heat–that suggests desert, rather than prairie. Also, it needs to be able to take care of itself in the thick of summer heat–because I’m not going out there then.
Things are changing. We have to change with it, I guess.
Susan, you are a smart lady to adapt to your conditions. You are a native of the best sort. :))