
Everywhere, the hills are brown. The only green is found near creeks, or where Jimson weed is growing.

Everywhere, the hills are brown. The only green is found near creeks, or where Jimson weed is growing.

We are in the middle of a serious, serious drought. Water issues should have been addressed four years ago, but weren’t. Now we are looking at shortages of water unprecedented within the state of California. There are arguments and court rulings against tiered water usage in residential areas, and arguments that agriculture and industry should be exempted. Aquifers are being pumped at alarming rates. Water is becoming the scarce commodity predicted years ago.

That said, life continues despite the drought. This is seen in the resilience of nature. There are flowers to be seen in the chaparral areas, even as vast swaths of dried grasses are in the fields of open space, fields that are the faded color of late summer in the middle of April.

We do try to be conscientious of our water usage, but there is still the need to grow plants in pots, whether sweet-smelling alyssum, or a tomato plant for the pleasure of harvesting something we grew. Our backyard is gone, and we are seriously considering what to do. The front yard, for now, is status quo, though I am beginning to seriously study the replacement of various plants with native flowers and shrubs.

The fact is humans (at least this one) need nature. We need air and land and plants and animals and birds and bugs. The smell of dust, bruised herbs, resinous plants is as exciting as the flight of birds…just last night, a hawk flew a few feet over our heads as we took the dogs out for a walk in the early evening.

Our spring has been exceedingly dry, but still there are plants growing and flowering, creating seeds for the next generation. I hope my generation will figure out something to do which is constructive and adaptive to our situation, and be able to bring forth seeds for success for our future.