Houston has received only 1.5 inches of rain in the last three months. That is 15 percent of its normal amount and less than some parts of the Sahara Desert get during the same period. In my own yard, we've actually gotten less than that.
The entire state of Texas is now in its driest 7-month span on record. Again, in my own yard, the drought actually started somewhat earlier than that. We've not had significant rainfall since July of last year. July was a wet month but the nine months since then have all been dry. You have to dig deep to find any moisture in the soil at all, unless you are digging in one of the beds for which I regularly provide water.
But that, too, may end soon. Our area is now in "voluntary" water conservation. Patrons of the water district are "encouraged" not to water lawns, trees, and other plants. If we get no relief from Mother Nature soon, that voluntary water rationing will quickly morph into mandatory water rationing.
I have actually cut back some on my watering, although I haven't yet cut it out altogether. I have too much sweat and too many aching muscles invested in my plants to watch them shrivel and die while I can still provide some water. The time may come when I won't be able to do that, but I'll put it off for as long as I can. So I pile on as much mulch as I dare and wet it down and hope for the best.
1951 was the first year of a six-year drought in Texas. The state is now drier than it was then; however, it is not yet as dry as it was in the fifth year of that drought, 1956. I wasn't here then and I wasn't doing any gardening then anyway except for what my mother made me do, but this is certainly the driest time that I have ever experienced. I wouldn't want to experience a drier one.
Meanwhile, the Mississippi River has crested at Memphis and folks in the Mississippi Delta south of there, all the way down to New Orleans, are watching that muddy water rise with some trepidation. Drought on the one hand and flood on the other. Mother Nature sure is a joker, isn't she?
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Friday, May 6, 2011
The value of heirlooms
Thursday morning, I took time out from my gardening activities to go along to Arbor Gate and hear a talk by Judy Barrett about the value of heirloom plants. Judy is a well-known organic gardener and writer about organic gardening and heirloom plants and she had several interesting things to say.
An heirloom plant, like an heirloom piece of furniture, is one that has been handed down from one generation to another. Something about the plant impressed a grower and made him/her think it was worth saving and passing on.
Among the greatest values of heirloom plants is their biological diversity. They contain genetic material that is not available from any other source and that is an insurance policy against diseases that can easily wipe out plants in a monoculture. The best known example of that is probably the Irish potato famine, but we set ourselves up for similar catastrophes today when we grow only one variety of a plant to the exclusion of all others. Heirloom plants, though, have a diversity of traits which can be used to cross and re-cross and produce stronger and better plants.
One quality that heirloom plants share is their adaptation to the climate where they live. Judy told the story of a type of corn that is grown by Native Americans in the arid Southwest, practically without rain. The farmers plant the corn in spring and it sits there in the ground until rain comes and then, as she described it, the corn virtually jumps out of the ground and grows justs as fast as it can to produce a crop. This corn has been grown by these people for 200-300 years and it knows how to survive in this climate. Other plants have adapted to other climates, of course, but all of them have the capacity to survive and thrive where they are planted.
Another quality that is true of all heirlooms is their toughness. These plants have survived adversity and still managed to thrive and produce. Judy mentioned the 'Peggy Martin' rose which survived Katrina in New Orleans. It was covered by salt water for a long period of time after the storm, but once it dried out, the plant came back and it bloomed again the next spring. I got one of these roses on my trip to the Antique Rose Emporium last month, so the rose that survived the flood is now trying to survive the drought in my yard. We'll see just how tough it is!
Heirlooms are plants that survive through generations, that survive the attentions of green thumb gardeners and of brown thumb gardeners like myself. They are almost impossible to kill and that's just the kind of plant I need in my yard.
An heirloom plant, like an heirloom piece of furniture, is one that has been handed down from one generation to another. Something about the plant impressed a grower and made him/her think it was worth saving and passing on.
Among the greatest values of heirloom plants is their biological diversity. They contain genetic material that is not available from any other source and that is an insurance policy against diseases that can easily wipe out plants in a monoculture. The best known example of that is probably the Irish potato famine, but we set ourselves up for similar catastrophes today when we grow only one variety of a plant to the exclusion of all others. Heirloom plants, though, have a diversity of traits which can be used to cross and re-cross and produce stronger and better plants.
One quality that heirloom plants share is their adaptation to the climate where they live. Judy told the story of a type of corn that is grown by Native Americans in the arid Southwest, practically without rain. The farmers plant the corn in spring and it sits there in the ground until rain comes and then, as she described it, the corn virtually jumps out of the ground and grows justs as fast as it can to produce a crop. This corn has been grown by these people for 200-300 years and it knows how to survive in this climate. Other plants have adapted to other climates, of course, but all of them have the capacity to survive and thrive where they are planted.
Another quality that is true of all heirlooms is their toughness. These plants have survived adversity and still managed to thrive and produce. Judy mentioned the 'Peggy Martin' rose which survived Katrina in New Orleans. It was covered by salt water for a long period of time after the storm, but once it dried out, the plant came back and it bloomed again the next spring. I got one of these roses on my trip to the Antique Rose Emporium last month, so the rose that survived the flood is now trying to survive the drought in my yard. We'll see just how tough it is!
Heirlooms are plants that survive through generations, that survive the attentions of green thumb gardeners and of brown thumb gardeners like myself. They are almost impossible to kill and that's just the kind of plant I need in my yard.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Monday, May 2, 2011
The cotton is planted
I think I have mentioned here before that my father was a cotton farmer. He raised other crops as well but cotton was the money crop. Thus, a lot of my childhood memories, not all of them pleasant, revolve around cotton fields. But time has a way of casting a rosy glow around our memories - some of them anyway. So it came to be that I decided to plant my own cotton crop this year.
Last year, Bob and I visited Washington-on-the-Brazos State Historical Site and toured the Barrington historical working farm there. It was autumn when we were there and there were still some bolls of cotton in one of their fields. With the permission of the historical interpreter who was showing us around, Bob picked a few of the fluffly white bolls and brought them home with him. He later picked out the seeds, put them in an envelope marked "1906 Heirloom Cotton Seeds" and gave them to me.
In addition to these seeds, I had some naturally brown cotton seeds that a friend who is a weaver had given me several years ago. I've no idea if they are still viable, but, this spring, I decided that I would plant a few of the seeds from both collections. I set aside one of the 8' x 4' beds in my vegetable garden to be my "cotton field" and waited for the weather to get hot. Last week, as the temperature climbed toward 90 degrees, I judged that it was time. I prepared the bed and planted my seeds. Afterward, I turned the sprinkler on to "rain" on the bed for a while. Cotton is a dry weather crop but it still needs some moisture to germinate.
Looking at my handiwork afterwards, I thought about what my father, who has been gone for thirteen years now, would say if he could see me planting cotton seeds in my vegetable garden. When he was able to pick himself up off the ground and stop laughing, I think he would probably say, "Dorothy Jean, why in the world are you using perfectly good ground where you could be planting beans or squash to plant a measley bit of cotton that won't do anybody any good?"
"Well, Daddy," I might say, "your birthday is coming up next Monday and so I thought I'd do it as a birthday present for you."
My practical Daddy would probably look at me like I'd lost my mind, but I would just smile.
Last year, Bob and I visited Washington-on-the-Brazos State Historical Site and toured the Barrington historical working farm there. It was autumn when we were there and there were still some bolls of cotton in one of their fields. With the permission of the historical interpreter who was showing us around, Bob picked a few of the fluffly white bolls and brought them home with him. He later picked out the seeds, put them in an envelope marked "1906 Heirloom Cotton Seeds" and gave them to me.
In addition to these seeds, I had some naturally brown cotton seeds that a friend who is a weaver had given me several years ago. I've no idea if they are still viable, but, this spring, I decided that I would plant a few of the seeds from both collections. I set aside one of the 8' x 4' beds in my vegetable garden to be my "cotton field" and waited for the weather to get hot. Last week, as the temperature climbed toward 90 degrees, I judged that it was time. I prepared the bed and planted my seeds. Afterward, I turned the sprinkler on to "rain" on the bed for a while. Cotton is a dry weather crop but it still needs some moisture to germinate.
Looking at my handiwork afterwards, I thought about what my father, who has been gone for thirteen years now, would say if he could see me planting cotton seeds in my vegetable garden. When he was able to pick himself up off the ground and stop laughing, I think he would probably say, "Dorothy Jean, why in the world are you using perfectly good ground where you could be planting beans or squash to plant a measley bit of cotton that won't do anybody any good?"
"Well, Daddy," I might say, "your birthday is coming up next Monday and so I thought I'd do it as a birthday present for you."
My practical Daddy would probably look at me like I'd lost my mind, but I would just smile.
Friday, April 29, 2011
The Friday garden
The drought and the winds continue unabated with the result that my garden on this Friday is looking pretty sad, in spite of my meager efforts to ameliorate the conditions that my poor plants have to deal with.
Here's what I mean - a view of part of my backyard with its crispy brown grass. (Yes, I know the bottle tree is crooked. It's a combination of no moisture and strong winds. I'll get around to straightening it one of these days.)
Maybe it was the drought that made the 'Red Lion' amaryllis so late to bloom this year.
The 'Sunset Yellow' hibiscus has been in bloom for a while now. Its leaves keep turning sunset yellow, too, and falling off, but it just keeps putting on these blooms.
'Radazz' Knockout roses put up a bouquet of blooms at all stages of development. (Those ugly brown tendrils are from the nearby coral honesuckle - another thing I'll get around to pruning someday.)
In the late evening and until the early morning hours, the old-fashioned 4 o'clocks send forth their variegated blooms. They are visited by hummingbirds in daylight hours and moths at night.
Did you ever wonder if native bees will actually use one of these manmade tube nests? The answer is, "Yes, they will!" The mason bees have been very active around this nest in the old apple tree this spring. I find it interesting that they seem to utilize the outer tubes first. I'm sure there is a scientific explanation for that. I just don't happen to know what it is.
'Pink Delight' buddleia has begun its bloom cycle and has been found by this tiny Gray Hairstreak butterfly and a native bee, almost hidden among the florets.
Most of the tropical milkweed plants are in full bloom now. These were passalongs (the best kind of plants!) from my fellow blogger Butterhummer last year.
I love salvias and I grow several all around my garden. This one has an interesting story. It is a tough Texas native Salvia farinacea found by horticulturalist Greg Grant in a cemetery. There were two color variations. This white one was growing on the grave of a woman named Augusta Duelberg and so Greg named it for her - Salvia farinacea 'Augusta Duelberg.'
Next to Augusta's grave was her husband, Henry's, and the salvias growing there were purple. They became Salvia farinacea 'Henry Duelberg.' I grow 'Henry' and 'Augusta' side by side in my garden.
Another tough, drought-tolerant plant is yarrow. This white one was passed along to me by fellow blogger Ursula. It can be invasive, but such pretty, delicate, cooling blossoms are worth a little extra trouble.
And speaking of tough, this is the plant that wrote the book. This is the genuine old tawny orange 'ditch lily.' This is the first bloom of the year from the clump of plants that I dug several years ago from my mother's garden.
This is the time of year when orange starts to become a dominant color in my garden, and they don't come any more "orange" than the canna 'Lucifer.'
The little cigar plant Cuphea joins the orange parade. It has just a few of these tiny cigar-shaped blooms now, but soon it will be covered with them and it will remain covered with them until frost. The hummingbirds love these blossoms.
The little red-orange gerbera raises its head above the variegated artemisia.
The anole sits on a downspout that hasn't had anything significant flowing through it for months. I find that when I water plants now the anoles come out to sip from the leaves.
These horsetail reeds (Equisetum hymale) growing at one end of my little pond are developing these interesting "flowers," except they are not flowers really. The plant reproduces by spores.
Nearby, three of my little goldfishes couldn't care less how horsetail reeds reproduce. They are more interested in how goldfish reproduce.
My ancient 'Caldwell Pink' rose, a Valentine's Day gift from hubby long ago, is now in full bloom. It got a late start this year because I was late in pruning it. (Behind it, you can see still more of my dry brown grass.)
In a bed near the 'Caldwell' another Salvia farinacea, the wonderful 'Indigo spires,' is beginning its long season of blooms.
And on a post of the muscadine trellis, my little furry friend keeps watch over it all. He'll have to wait a long time for those muscadines.
We've almost made it to May and that is when, the climate scientists tell us, the dry La Nina phase of ENSO should begin to wind down and then we may have a better chance for rain. Let us hope it is so.
Here's what I mean - a view of part of my backyard with its crispy brown grass. (Yes, I know the bottle tree is crooked. It's a combination of no moisture and strong winds. I'll get around to straightening it one of these days.)
Maybe it was the drought that made the 'Red Lion' amaryllis so late to bloom this year.
The 'Sunset Yellow' hibiscus has been in bloom for a while now. Its leaves keep turning sunset yellow, too, and falling off, but it just keeps putting on these blooms.
'Radazz' Knockout roses put up a bouquet of blooms at all stages of development. (Those ugly brown tendrils are from the nearby coral honesuckle - another thing I'll get around to pruning someday.)
In the late evening and until the early morning hours, the old-fashioned 4 o'clocks send forth their variegated blooms. They are visited by hummingbirds in daylight hours and moths at night.
Did you ever wonder if native bees will actually use one of these manmade tube nests? The answer is, "Yes, they will!" The mason bees have been very active around this nest in the old apple tree this spring. I find it interesting that they seem to utilize the outer tubes first. I'm sure there is a scientific explanation for that. I just don't happen to know what it is.
'Pink Delight' buddleia has begun its bloom cycle and has been found by this tiny Gray Hairstreak butterfly and a native bee, almost hidden among the florets.
Most of the tropical milkweed plants are in full bloom now. These were passalongs (the best kind of plants!) from my fellow blogger Butterhummer last year.
I love salvias and I grow several all around my garden. This one has an interesting story. It is a tough Texas native Salvia farinacea found by horticulturalist Greg Grant in a cemetery. There were two color variations. This white one was growing on the grave of a woman named Augusta Duelberg and so Greg named it for her - Salvia farinacea 'Augusta Duelberg.'
Next to Augusta's grave was her husband, Henry's, and the salvias growing there were purple. They became Salvia farinacea 'Henry Duelberg.' I grow 'Henry' and 'Augusta' side by side in my garden.
Another tough, drought-tolerant plant is yarrow. This white one was passed along to me by fellow blogger Ursula. It can be invasive, but such pretty, delicate, cooling blossoms are worth a little extra trouble.
And speaking of tough, this is the plant that wrote the book. This is the genuine old tawny orange 'ditch lily.' This is the first bloom of the year from the clump of plants that I dug several years ago from my mother's garden.
This is the time of year when orange starts to become a dominant color in my garden, and they don't come any more "orange" than the canna 'Lucifer.'
The little cigar plant Cuphea joins the orange parade. It has just a few of these tiny cigar-shaped blooms now, but soon it will be covered with them and it will remain covered with them until frost. The hummingbirds love these blossoms.
The little red-orange gerbera raises its head above the variegated artemisia.
The anole sits on a downspout that hasn't had anything significant flowing through it for months. I find that when I water plants now the anoles come out to sip from the leaves.
These horsetail reeds (Equisetum hymale) growing at one end of my little pond are developing these interesting "flowers," except they are not flowers really. The plant reproduces by spores.
Nearby, three of my little goldfishes couldn't care less how horsetail reeds reproduce. They are more interested in how goldfish reproduce.
My ancient 'Caldwell Pink' rose, a Valentine's Day gift from hubby long ago, is now in full bloom. It got a late start this year because I was late in pruning it. (Behind it, you can see still more of my dry brown grass.)
In a bed near the 'Caldwell' another Salvia farinacea, the wonderful 'Indigo spires,' is beginning its long season of blooms.
And on a post of the muscadine trellis, my little furry friend keeps watch over it all. He'll have to wait a long time for those muscadines.
We've almost made it to May and that is when, the climate scientists tell us, the dry La Nina phase of ENSO should begin to wind down and then we may have a better chance for rain. Let us hope it is so.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
"Growing a Greener World"
Are you, like me, bummed out about the lack of good gardening shows on television? HGTV pretty much gave up on the "G" part of their name long ago. PBS used to have some good shows, including "Victory Garden," and in some parts of the country, they apparently still do - just not on our local KUHT. I don't know if the problem is a lack of money or if the powers that be at the station just don't think there is an audience for garden shows. They still show "Victory Garden" every Sunday but they have shown the same series of shows over and over and over for years now. If I see Jamie Durie make those bougainvillea trees one more time, I might just put my foot through the screen!
It turns out though that PBS does actually have another gardening show that is available in other parts of the country. It is "Growing a Greener World" with gardener Joe Lamp'l. As far as I know, there are no plans for KUHT to start carrying it, but the good news is that through the power of the Internet, you can watch it anyway! Just click on this link and select the episode you want to watch and click on the title and you can watch the show right there on your computer screen.
I've watched a few of the episodes already and I think the show is pretty good. Take a look and see what you think.
Maybe some day this or other worthy gardening shows will again show up on our local television station schedule. Until then, thank goodness for the Internet!
It turns out though that PBS does actually have another gardening show that is available in other parts of the country. It is "Growing a Greener World" with gardener Joe Lamp'l. As far as I know, there are no plans for KUHT to start carrying it, but the good news is that through the power of the Internet, you can watch it anyway! Just click on this link and select the episode you want to watch and click on the title and you can watch the show right there on your computer screen.
I've watched a few of the episodes already and I think the show is pretty good. Take a look and see what you think.
Maybe some day this or other worthy gardening shows will again show up on our local television station schedule. Until then, thank goodness for the Internet!
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