It is hard to be inspired to write anything on the blog during this record-breaking drought. I have no beautiful photo to grace this entry. A photo of the gardens would only be depressing. Sometimes we boast about an impressive statistic. But this one leaves only a dismal and hopeless feeling. In mid-summer the gardens and fields are usually lush with produce here. Yet today when you walk outside, the grass crackles and breaks under foot, the plants are shriveled and stunted. And each time clouds cover the sky, you wait, hoping, praying for rain. It has been so long since it rained that it is hard to remember that beautiful sound on the roof, on the trees. Surely it will rain again, but when the clouds have passed us by so many times, one begins to wonder if this absence of life-giving water will ever end. The last prediction I heard was that it will be October before we get real rain, far too late to rescue any crops. Can the trees survive this, I wonder? Do they have ways of hunkering down, preserving energy, minimizing output? I imagine that Nature does have a wealth of strategies when it responds to a crisis such as this. And I would like to learn those ways.
If this is a trend, if we are looking at a shift in the climate here, our lives are going to change in dramatic ways very soon. Conservation will become a necessity. Simplicity will allow survival. Even though I am grieving for the plants, for all of nature outside, I hope I have space in myself to also learn from this experience so that I can be better prepared for the future.