Rain means weeds
Whenever it's going to fall, I have the option of emptying buckets that catch rain from the roof. It's a chore. Five gallons is a lot for someone my age. So I dump a gallon out and schlepp a little less to the pond, mostly, but also to trees awaiting renewal. We have gophers, which I'm told provide deep aeration of the soil horizon, and that's a good thing. AS LONG AS THEY DON'T KILL THE PLANTS. I dug up a rose that was all but dead. One poor excuse for a branch declared its life was not over. The same with a lantana, that had two leaflets. They are now in pots. During winter, I don't water, expecting the cool weather and normal rainfall to make up for my interference. But this winter has been drier than last, and I expect the California fuschia succumbed while nearby weeds flourished. One edible that doesn't mind dry conditions is arugula. It used to erupt in forests in the fenced garden, but now it adorns pathways. The nice thing about that is the reward of weeding. If by chance I pluck one of these darlings, it is my treat to eat this pungent relative of the radish. I am rewarded too with white flowers on a stalk when they bolt, also welcome in a world of nettle, grass, and mallow, which I'm told is also good for what ails you.
Once when walking in a neighborhood of San Diego, a stout woman who could barely speak English, transplanted from a European country, was enraptured to encounter this plant had taken root in marginal soil. She made motions that this plant was good for the stomach, and I surmised, digestion.
Much of the opportunistic growth on our hills is from somewhere in Europe anyway, and South American Pampas grass clumps on roadsides. I have the same antipathy to that last plant as people do to two-legged immigrants. Pulling weeds, I wonder if I should just get a goat. If I did, the roses would be first to go.
Once when walking in a neighborhood of San Diego, a stout woman who could barely speak English, transplanted from a European country, was enraptured to encounter this plant had taken root in marginal soil. She made motions that this plant was good for the stomach, and I surmised, digestion.
Much of the opportunistic growth on our hills is from somewhere in Europe anyway, and South American Pampas grass clumps on roadsides. I have the same antipathy to that last plant as people do to two-legged immigrants. Pulling weeds, I wonder if I should just get a goat. If I did, the roses would be first to go.