Recently, I dug up a little Heuchera that had seeded itself where it couldn’t be properly appreciated. I knew it was happening but I was still caught by surprise – the soil was very, very dry. Didn’t we just have drenching rains a few days ago?
It is true that every May the soil here in the Puget Sound region starts to become dry and more often than not I am caught by total disbelief! A good layer of mulch helps to retain some moisture, but the slow summer march to dry Mediterranean-type soil is underway. It continues to amaze me that locals think our gardens can function and be run like the great gardens in England. Find a nice old-fashion globe and run your finger along our latitude until you get to Europe. You will find your finger to be in southern France, not England.
It is possible, with extensive irrigation systems, to maintain the appearance of the lush greenness of the English countryside, but then many of our hardy and beautiful native plants will simply rot to an early death. The incredibly beautiful Ceanothus that you see in bloom this month will not tolerate excessive irrigation. Thank goodness that it is still allowed to thrive in some of our older landscapes, for that intense blueness makes my heart soar on a gray day. Now you rarely find it in the newer, extensively irrigated landscapes.
You can have the best of both worlds by segregating your drought-tolerant plants away from your thirsty plants. I have a wonderful hedgerow of Arbutus uneda, underplanted with Rosa chinensis mutabalis and low-growing manzanita that will not receive any irrigation this year. It is a wonderful textured planting group with a few modest flowers, and needs very little maintenance. It is a part of my garden where I do not want to spend very much time. One might even call it my public garden, a gift to my neighborhood.
In the more private areas of my garden I have my areas for thirsty plants – a collection of specie rhododendrons and special ferns – sheltered by the deciduous Japanese maples and Stewartias. Yes, I hand irrigate, every 6 to 8 days, by setting a sprinkler at 4 different “stations”. These are long soakings, usually about a half hour at each “station”. The slow tick of the oscillating sprinkler is mesmerizing on a warm summer evening. It lulls me into a special quietude that awakens my senses to the air and summer light and scents and the complex leaf patterns set before me. Oftentimes the hummingbirds come to play in the water. With an expensive timed irrigation system, these tranquil moments do not happen. And I must add that when a colony of earwigs or other problems occur within the automatic systems, oftentimes one is not fully aware of the problem until one or more plants keel over from thirst.
As for the other areas of my garden they are a hodge-podge of perennials, annuals, and vegetables, fruits, and herbs, hand watered in the very early morning or late in the evening. Again, these are special quiet times, and we are so fortunate now to have the light extend late into the evening hours. After so many days/months with low light, I treasure these days of light, and want to take the time to be out in the light, even when it gets a bit dim at 10:00 pm.
The merry month of May pushes us to our limits. The vegetables need to get planted, many perennials need staking, the old blooms from the spring bulbs are unsightly yet we are encouraged to leave the faded foliage until it completely dies back. Of course some want their hanging baskets and other bedding out chores to be perfectly executed. I must admit that I do not have the patience for these chores. Perhaps it is because I spend too much time hand watering and just simply observing all of the complexity of the life in the garden?
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