|The prickly pear cactus (Opuntia) is happy|
There was a bit of damp sprinkles last night, but not enough to soak, and no soaking rain in the long range forecast either.
This year I promised myself that I would not stress over conditions. I vowed to take care of what I could do reasonably, like water the containers daily, keep the birdbath filled, prevent seedlings from drying up, and lug the hoses out to get water to any new transplants.
Everything else is on its own, and I simply have to stop looking.
|Orange Butterflyweed is doing well.|
And so the garden dries up. The astilbes are gone, totally crisp. Viburnums and hydrangeas are alarmingly droopy, coneflowers are wilted and the lovely drumstick alliums that stand so tall and straight have started to lie down in the dirt and make little piles of hay before even opening their buds.
|The tightly budded drumstick alliums usually open wine red and make a great contrast|
with hot orange Butterflyweed. But the alliums are starting to give up and wilt now.
Blueberries have brown edges on some leaves. The lawn grass is, of course, browning. Everyone's is. It will come back with wetter conditions, but right now it's another thing I try not to look at.
This is where I add modest disclaimers about my issues compared to truly horrific situations like the floods in West Virginia, the fires out west, or tornadoes in the south. My garden is no tragedy. Not even close. Some things even look good.
But I work hard all winter and spring on it, with great anticipation that I will enjoy it when summer comes and that visitors will see something nice when they visit.
I'm not enjoying it. I'm keeping what I can limping along, watered enough not to die, and waiting for another season.