Dry Spell

It’s dry here. The grass is turning brown and will soon be crunchy to walk on. The gardens are wilting. By midday everything looks pathetic.

I watered the veggie patch Sunday evening. I’m watering the container plants daily.  Everything else is on its own, at least for now.

During the last drought I used bath water, rinse water from my washing machine, and a rain barrel to collect water and save the gardens at Shady Hollow. It was heavy work that involved lots of 5 gallon buckets. I still have the buckets. I’m just not really wanting to lug them up and down the hillside filled with water. I will though. If I have too.

Each day as the thunder storms build, I watch and urge the clouds to head our way. Each day they go around us. They tease the gardens with a few stray raindrops as they empty the life giving rain on other gardens and farms.

Maybe today the clouds will pass over us and rain hard enough and long enough for the rain drops to make through the trees and water the gardens underneath.

In the meantime, I’m heading out to the shed to unearth my buckets.

Be Blessed!