Deep in the heat of Texas

Summer is here in full force. We have humid, 90-degree days (although balmy compared to the 100+ weather of last summer) and the nights are not much cooler.

It is these temperatures that bring me closer to understanding my southern genes. The heat and humidity really take it out of me, and I find myself moving, talking, and even thinking much slowly. Suddenly things lose their urgency as I gravitate toward the porch or any piece of furniture under a ceiling fan where I can find a little air movement.

The easy ways of my grandparents and great aunts suddenly spring to mind. Those folks couldn’t be hurried into anything and the lazy way they framed their thoughts sometimes seemed alien to me. I’ve always been prone to rushing around and doing too much at once. The only time the pace slowed was when I spent time with the McCasland clan. It was from grandma that I learned to love chickens, corn bread, bacon fat, greens, and anything else she would let me help cook. Grandpa and I spent many hours sitting in the boat waiting for the crappy to bite on Emigrant Lake a tonic for an A-personality granddaughter prone to talk too much. It seems he never ran out of stories about Arkansas and I never tired of listening.

I think of Jack and Clemmy often now. I think I can understand them a little better and I wish they were both alive for me to tell them so. I’d like to tease Grandma and tell her how I relish greens and bacon. Grandpa would be urging me to drop a line into the Colorado River to see how big a bass I could pull in. I hear the crappie bite really well on lawn grubs I can hear him say. I would tell them about my lazy summer days and how now I can appreciate the phrase “come and sit a spell.” I would show them my garden and laugh as the drying pods on my black-eyed peas pop and crackle in the sun. We’d talk about the merits of the tomato varieties I’ve planted and wonder how much taller these sunflowers are going to get. We would sit in the chairs that Ed made out of fence boards, swat at the mosquitoes and admire the fireflies.

I could never imagine the life I lead now. I could never even conceive of slowing things down and actually enjoying the heat of the day. I had no idea that the south would ooze out of my pores like the gallons of sweat I didn’t know I could produce. I didn’t know I had a southerner in me. “I swan Sheri”, I can hear Grandpa say, “we knew it all the time.”

In love with my yard

I can't help it. I am totally in love with my yard. Everyday I go out there and just wonder at the splendor.

No, it's not a showcase. In fact, most people would look askance at what I call my "production" landscape. I've killed the lawn and replaced it with Texas sedge (Carex texensis) in front, and newspaper and leaves in the back. I've got reclaimed-lumber raised beds bursting with all sorts of vegetables. I threw out wildflower seeds so I've got all kinds of blossoms helter skelter everywhere. I've got shredded bark in the paths and crimson clover that's brown and gone to seed. Nope. Not a restful, peaceful, landscape worthy of the front cover of Fine Gardening. Not at all. Not even close. But I love it, love it, love it.

So does the wildlife. There are two Green Anole's that have staked out a home here - one if front and one in back. There are also what I think are Texas Banded Geckos that like to hang out in the compost bin. Swallowtail butterfly caterpillars are now all over my fennel. I counted over a dozen munching on my four largest bronze and green plants.

The Mexican feather grass in front is quite splendid and dances a perpetual ballet. Five foot tall flower spikes of the red yucca hang over the curb and reach out to passing cars and pedestrians.

I just planted more hardy hibiscus and two passionflowers in the side yard. The 'Lady Margaret' has started to bloom and is just a stunner. The orange Gulf Fritillary butterflies have been hanging about, so I imagine I'll see larvae on this vine soon.

The Agarita shrubs have a full load of berries on them and are starting to turn color. They should help attract more birds into the front yard so I can be fully entertained from my own perch on the front porch swing.

The blackfoot daisies planted with the Agarita form a nice contrast.

They are already starting to spread and will soon hide my irrigation line on the front berm. The red salvia and their sweet little flowers will compliment the Agarita berries.

This whole project has really captured me. Maybe it's because I'm gardening in a totally new climate - or maybe it's just because I'm ready to appreciate it more. I don't really care what the reason is, I just know that I am having a blast and am thankful that I have a garden to love. And you know, I think she loves me back!

Why I Garden

The storm of controversy on twitter over comments being made about Generation Y and why they don't garden has made me reflect on my own journey with dirt. I had no interest in gardening when I was in my early twenties. It was just one more chore for me to do that interfered with my entertainment agenda. I didn't start digging in the yard until I moved to a large city.

It was in Portland that I discovered how connected I am with the earth and how terrible it is to be separated from it. Living in an apartment suddenly made me feel trapped and devalued. My stressful job pushed on me and I had no outlet from which to re-energize. Luckily my friend Jess didn't live too far away, so I gardened in his yard. I finally got my own little weedy patch when Ed and I got married.

But why do I garden? I've discovered that it isn't because there is a definite outcome, like flowers or food, although that is nice. It's not because I think it's the right thing to do or because I need an exercise program. It's not because I am competing with anyone. And it's not because I'm trying to prove to Mom that her lazy daughter can accomplish something. It's because it is a process and a journey that touches my very core. I garden because it is so infinitely satisfying to be outside and smelling the flowers. I love watching the birds and insects that take advantage of my handiwork. The garden is not something I can ever control, so I must accept things as they are and just do my best. Success or failure is part of the process, not a judgement of who I am. Even if I do puff up in pride over an exceptional blossom or vegetable. Nature is so sublime and wonderful, I'm so thankful to be a part of it.

Right now I am listening to the rain after coming in from a morning of ditch digging. The water that runs off the top of the ground is gathering in my trenches and soaking into the ground as designed. The white beacons of yucca blossoms are swaying slightly in the breeze on this gray day. A little bird has taken refuge in the rose bush. This is why I garden.