Hi friends! Sorry I’ve been so very, very absent–if you’re wondering why, it’s because I wrote a novel called Girl Waits with Gun and that shit is time-consuming. It’s coming out September 1 and I’m going on a book tour that I very much hope puts me in a city near you. Really, you have no idea how much I’d appreciate it if you’d come out and say hello, or cajole some friends who happen to live in Austin or Portland or wherever into going, or both. Last bit of new business and then I promise to move on: If you’re at all interested in pre-ordering a book, it turns out that pre-orders matter quite a lot in this brave new era of publishing, and I’ll send you a little something if you take that bold step. Details here.
OK! On to the subject at hand. I live in Eureka, CA, which is not only at the more terrifying end of the Cascadia Subduction Zone everybody’s talking about, but it also in that state that’s having that big drought we’re also all talking about. Water restrictions are a fact of life here now, as they always should have been. And the kind of gardening I do is suddenly very much in vogue, which is to say that I don’t water at all.
At all. Ever.
Even in a normal year, we get no rain from about May-October. None. Not a drop. That’s just regular California weather.
So I was not all that put off by new watering restrictions that allow me to only water on Tuesdays and Thursdays or whatever it is. Who cares? Why water?
What a lot of people are doing is letting their lawns go brown. I’m totally good with that.
Here’s another option. If this makes you happy, go for it. The dye is some kind of vegetable-based thing that probably doesn’t hurt anything but your pocketbook.
Here’s what I’ve got going on.
Now, this might not be to your taste, and I apologize for the unflattering cell phone snapshot, but you get the idea. Perennials and grasses. Poppies. Stuff like that. This garden gets zero water, as in none, ever. And my secret and highly technical technique for making this work has consisted of the following:
1. Plant stuff that seems likely to be drought-tolerant.
2. Wait and see what dies.
3. Plant more of the stuff that didn’t die.
My friend Scott Calhoun, who designs gardens in Tucson and knows about drought, once said to me (quoting someone else, and I’m sorry I’ve forgotten who), “How do you know it’s drought-tolerant if you water it?”
So that’s what I do. Now, there are a couple of tricks to making this work. One is to put new plants in the ground in the fall, right as it’s starting to rain, so they have the winter to get established. The other is to give new plants a deep, long watering once every few weeks or so in their first year to help them get established. For instance, in this garden I have two smallish tibouchinas that I just planted, and those get a few hours of a slow drip from the hose once in a blue moon.
And I will admit that there are a few edibles in pots outside my kitchen door that get water. But very little.
I don’t even want to post a plant list or suggest plants that might be drought-tolerant for you, because it’s really all about your microclimate and your soil. I have a rhododendron in this garden. Are they high on anybody’s drought-tolerant list? I’ve got rose campion that insist on doing well even though they should be dead. I don’t question it–I just plant more of what lives and less of what dies. Over time, the whole thing comes together.
One parting thought for you, if you’re living out here in Drought-Land with me: My friend Saxon Holt is doing some remarkable things with his Summer Dry website. Please go check it out, and remember, even if El Nino comes and we get inundated with water this winter, we should all be figuring out how to get through the summer without irrigation. It can totally be done. It doesn’t have to look exactly like this, if this is not your thing, but it can look like something lush and interesting and appealing.
Anybody else have a no-water garden out there? I’d love to see some photos.
That is all. Back to Novel-Writing Land I go…