Photo by Jess Cole
Recently, on an early morning of light staccato rainfall, I sat with my friend, Nick, beside a tiny pond in the middle of the woods. We were observing, in quiet, wood ducks and their traffic through the space. Immersed, assuredly, in all the earth-feels—he turned and whispered to me about the “petrichor" all around us. I had never heard this word; he explained that it is the scent that occurs after the rain has touched the earth. It felt wild to discover a way to describe a sensation so familiar; I knew immediately what he meant.
My mind instantly flooded with other scent memories involving water, such as that of water from a hose hitting scorching concrete on a sunny childhood summer day, or of the languid brackish water we "chicken neck" out of on Bayou Lacombe. Being a student of both words and the natural world, I have thought about this phenomenon constantly since that morning by the pond. As is the case with most strong words, the etymology of “petrichor” reveals its captivating origins: the ancient Greek “petra” meaning “rock” and “ichor” defined as “the ethereal fluid that is the blood of the gods.”
As a gardener here in Louisiana—where rain, water, and flooding are seemingly stitched into our DNA—rain is on my mind nearly always. Most every action I take when planting trees, which makes up the bulk sum of my work, is dependent on rain—flooding or the lack thereof.
These last few summers, I’ve observed something strange: we are getting more and more consecutive drought days after our spring rains decide to bow out. Hopefully, this summer proves me wrong. But as I sit here on my porch writing this in the pouring rain, I am thinking ahead at summer weather possibilities and have compiled a list of thoughts and tips involving drought and watering practices. Luckily, the astral sky (Farmers Almanac) predicts lots of summer rain this year. Here's to hoping for the best, and more petrichor memories still to come.
As a gardener here in Louisiana—where rain, water, and flooding are seemingly stitched into our DNA—rain is on my mind nearly always. Most every action I take when planting trees, which makes up the bulk sum of my work, is dependent on rain—flooding or the lack thereof.
Thoughts on Keeping a Well-Watered Garden in South Louisiana
Water in the dark: Watering at the coolest time possible, just before the sun rises, ensures that less water is lost to evaporation and more of it penetrates deep into the soil, reaching the roots
The best planting season is when it is cool and rainy: when possible I only plant between the months of December and March, when temperatures are more favorable and winter and spring rains are reliable. Avoiding the trauma of heat and drought as a plant is adjusting to its new environment will save you from loss of plants and time—your greatest resource of all.
Don’t skimp on the mulch: Make sure all your plants are well-mulched, with no roots exposed. The greatest attribute of mulch is to hold moisture in your soil. And pro tip: the best mulches are free—collected leaves, arborist wood chips, and sawdust, among others.
When there is more wind, add more water: We don’t get much wind here, but one of our last major summer droughts was also so windy, it reminded me of dry desert summer days I have experienced out west. Wind can greatly affect moisture retention. Note your plants’ health after long bouts of wind, and adjust watering practices accordingly.
Water more than you think: Even in Louisiana, when trying to establish a plant, I find most people don't realize how much water a plant can benefit from. I like to especially point this out in cases of smaller, herbaceous, or newer plantings under large trees, especially live oaks. In those cases, (1) the canopy of the tree may be inhibiting the understory access to water and (2) in drought, the tree is going to take up most of the precious water before sharing. In the shade especially, it is always a delicate dance between not watering too much as to cause rot and watering enough in relation to the larger trees.
Maybe, don’t water at all: I recently read that the famous Sissinghurst Gardens in England, two summers ago, went this route. In the thick of their hottest and driest summer, the gardeners there decided to stop watering and see what would survive by the end of their drought. This experiment would then inform their future plantings and how they might proceed in a future of hotter and drier summers.
[Read this: "Our Sustainable Garden: Thoughts on Seeds."]
This, like so much of conscious planting, comes back to the concept of “right plant, right place.” Mostly because I am a lazy gardener, but also in an effort to conserve the water I use, I only plant plants that live through both drought and deluge. Natives are most often my greatest ally here—many are pretty general in their needs and thrive under a range of conditions; these are the types I love to grow and plant most. Still, many natives have more of a specialized nature, with strong preferences toward particular ecosystems. Just because it is native doesn’t mean it will be low-maintenance. There are also plenty of non-natives I love with this perspective in mind. Mexican Salvia (Salvia leucantha) and balloon flower (Platycodon grandiflorus) are two of my most recent sweethearts. In general, I tend to avoid any plant that won’t make it through a long drought with more than minimal assistance. I rarely use exotic annuals anymore and focus my only water-heavy needs on my vegetable garden.
Just because a plant's leaves are wilting does not mean it needs water: This can be confusing at first, but listen here: even in a wet and regularly watered garden bed, plants may still wilt in the heat of the day. This is because plants lose water through their leaves, and even in well-watered situations, when faced with heat, a plant will choose to close up their "water release" valves to hold on to that water—producing a wilting effect. If you wait until evening, when the sun has dropped and the heat has relinquished; they usually perk back up.
The best way to know if your plants are actually wilting because they need water is to know your own garden. If you know you have been watering well and regularly (soaking the ground), and you see wilting, then it's likely just a temporary survival mechanism—don’t water more! If you know you have been irregular, and the soil is dry to the touch, then your plants are probably underwatered. When the sun falls, water well! Another trick is to observe your plants in the early morning: if they are wilted at that time of day, you can be sure that they are desperate for water. If they only wilt in the afternoon heat, usually they are fine and just taking a rest.
The water isn’t just for the plants: Those of you with highly biodiverse gardens that are of benefit to pollinators and wildlife (native perennial gardeners, I am looking at you!), do consider keeping up the laborious task of watering deeply and keeping your bird baths full. You are likely helping out more wildlife and pollinators (insects, birds, and more) than you realize. You don’t have to treat your entire space this way, but do keep a pocket of the garden thriving.
Read more entries of Jess Cole's column, “Our Sustainable Garden," here.
