In summer I crave water, especially during long stretches of 90-degree-plus days sans rain. I drink glass after glass of water. I swim, drag hoses and fill up watering cans.
Visions of the dust bowl float to mind as I see weakened trees and shrubs in the neighborhood turn brown, leaves droop, unattended perennials and annuals curl up and die. We are far from the historic drought of the 1930s, but I can't help but think of it during a scorching dry spell. Other places in the world, where water is always scarce, come to mind, too.
In Maryland we are fortunate to have easy access to water. All we do is turn on a faucet for clean, cold water. We live near bodies of water. In this neighborhood, Stony Run is within walking distance. If we want a bit of a hike, we can walk up Roland, across Lake Avenue and down Hollins Lane to Lake Roland. We have community pools in Hampden, Roland Park and Mount Washington. For boat rides, there's the Inner Harbor.
This year, dozens of new trees were planted by the city on either side of Roland Avenue and in the median. Others were installed on Cold Spring and a few side streets. Because several of the first plantings went in too late last fall and died over the winter, some on Roland were planted twice.
Because the year after planting is crucial for a tree, the Roland Park Civic League hired an independent company to water the new ones when the soil becomes too dry. So far, because it finally rained at the end of last week, that has not been necessary.
Many people go away in August. Before leaving town, plants should be watered thoroughly. Five gallons of water per week is what new trees need their first year. It is one thing to ask the city to plant trees or, if full Roland Park Roads and Maintenance fees have been paid, to request a free street tree. It is another thing to care for them. Watering is the first step. For big old trees, soaking the grass around them is a good idea. Deep root fertilization also helps.
I planted no trees this year, just several bushes this spring. A dry summer has proved a challenge. Leaves on a new rhododendron and one camellia have been slightly curled for two weeks. Looking and fretting about them makes me vow that if they die, I will replace them with some good-looking, hardy natives, like inkberries or Annabelle hydrangeas. Native plants are more drought hardy, but even our native leucothoes have taken extra water this month.
My routine has been to be in the garden around 7 a.m. every other day during the hot, dry snap. I like it there early in the morning, particularly on weekends without the noisy rush-hour traffic of Cold Spring Lane.
When I step outside, birds are crisscrossing the garden. They sing more after I drag the hose and start showering the roots of the plants. In the past, I used sprinklers, but overhead watering seems to foster powdery mildew on lilacs and phlox and promote phytophthora fungus on rhododendrons.
I have my watering routine down. I drag 50 feet of hose and coil it on the cement pad in front of the garage. I take the long watering wand and march the hose to the center of the garden via the central flagstone path.
Flagstone paths, in the shape of a Maltese cross, border many geometric beds. The hose snags easily on plants, and my feet snag easily on uneven flagstones. I need patience when snaking the hose through the beds. The minute I start to fight with either the hose or the flagstones, injury occurs to the plants or me. It's best to take some yogic breaths, envision a ballet and work slowly and deliberately with the hose.
I weave it around the paths and plants to the front of the garden, under Yoshino cherry trees where the birds congregate. I then work my way around black-eyed Susans, phlox and almost invasive gooseneck loosestrife, old and new roses, artemisia, candytuft and peonies.
Slowly, I water my way to the back of the garden, where more morning sun shines now that the neighbor's two elms have succumbed to Dutch elm disease. I aim the hose carefully at the base of each rhododendron, hosta and hellebore. I stop and do a little weeding while the soil is moist.
For the grand finale, I shower my hands, drag the hose out of the garden and water the side beds. When I'm finished, I leave it for my very neat husband to recoil, rush inside and pull on my bathing suit. I drive to the pool, dive in and swim underwater for as long as I can. There's no such thing as too much water on 90-degree mornings.