Beyond Begonias

The sun came right out and said "Off with you!" to the fog today, and, amazingly enough, he went. So, the sun's out and she's having a great conversation with the summer breeze, who must be doing most of the talking because it's a little brisk out there. No clouds; they've run off somewhere, probably just hanging out, texting friends, planning a party or whatever clouds do in the summer.

I took a quick look at my flowers just now and they're looking pretty dandy, doing their best to attract bees. But, I believe the bees are napping or possibly in watching Wimbledon. They prefer to do their work in the morning before the breeze takes a walk around town. I have some begonias that are looking pretty awful and may just need a little nudge to the great beyond. They are a little long in the tooth, and I should replace them, but you know how that goes. Old guys need a little respect in their final days, give them a chance to recount former glory, teach the young blooms a thing or two. Generally, you kind of know when it's time to say good-bye for good, and I'm not quite there yet with those gents.

Like a lot of gardeners in the area, I am gradually adding more natives to the mix. They resist drought and invading hordes of insects much better than exotics do. Though it's better to plant natives in October or so, I'm heading over to Monterey this afternoon to the Native Plant Nursery for a good look at what they have in stock.

The biggest challenge for we who live on the Peninsula is a very definite paucity of water. Even in more lush years, rainfall barely replenishes the underground aquifer we are tapped into. The Carmel River, which runs the length of Carmel Valley, supplies water for what seems like a zillion people and their pets. Water diverted from the San Joaquin River delta goes to almost the entire state, especially southern California, but we here in this corner of the left coast, get our water from the local rivers and aquifers that are supposed to be recharged by seasonal rainfall every winter. The balance is in favor of we humans, not the rivers, so water levels drop and we are held on alert for possible rationing in dry years.

So, when we plant natives -- the wise plants who know how to survive with virtually no summer watering -- it helps decrease the impact on the water supply. If the human population were static or declining, we'd be in fine shape, but that isn't the case.

When I roam around in my garden listening to the idle talk between the blossoms out there, I try to imagine fewer of them, but that's a difficult vision to conjure. They're handsome and proud of their good looks. My plan is to let them live full lives, and when they finally pass on I'll replace them with natives, one by one.