There’s more to worry about than a little drought
Some days it’s easier not to listen to the news.
My radio blares at me every morning heralding the news. This is in no way pleasant. Yet, it’s so annoying I usually get out of bed. If it’s early enough, I’ll get the BBC. Americans often stereotype the English as being cool and reserved. Yet, this isn’t the case for their newscasters. If you listen to the BBC at 5:15 in the morning, it sounds like the world is one high-pitched calamity after another. I get out of bed quickly so I can press the “off button” and to make the shrill news of the world’s problems go away.
A normal person might dial into soft sounds for the morning routine, but then I’d never unwrap myself from my down comforter.
When the coronavirus was new, I listened to the news nonstop. I would tune into the governor’s noon press conference, keep check of local news, then wash it all down with the PBS NewsHour. I was worried that the coronavirus would continue to get worse and worse. When Butte County’s infection rate hit 100, I thought it couldn’t possibly get much worse.
Like most of us, my mind has acclimated.
What’s not in the news, at least not that I have heard, is that Northern California is in a drought.
How could something as ho-hum as drought possibly fit into a news hour filled with worldwide death, projected economic ruin, anticipated medical breakthroughs and sparring politicians?
Drought arrives quietly, one absent drop after another.
I’m sorry I am bringing you more bad news.
The Drought Portal, https://www. drought.gov/drought/states/california, shows much of our Northern California region in severe drought, as are vast parts of Oregon and a bit of Washington state. If you drive east you’d hit the exceptional drought in Las Vegas,
Salt Lake City, Tucson and a huge swatch of New Mexico. I suppose you could consider our drought status as merely mediocre-bad news in comparison.
Maybe if I don’t hear about drought on the radio, it will go away before I need to officially add it to the worry list.
In the meantime, I’ll just mumble about the things right in front of me — my potted plants.
Plants need water or they will die. In winter, dry plants are especially vulnerable because lack of water adds to their stress, and could quickly lead to death.
No normal year
Or maybe some of those prognosticators are right, drought is merely the new normal, therefore no longer “news.”
Normally, I would watch for a rain forecast in mid- October, then sprinkle grass seed in the bald spots in my yard. I would press seeds of kale and spinach into the empty spaces after yanking my tomato plants. Some people get an ache in their knees when a rain is on the way. I remember to plant seeds.
And in a way, I already have planted seeds.
My friend LaDonna has a habit of letting her plants go to seed then simply letting seeds fall. I think she might also frolic in the moonlight and shake her dead plants like pompoms.
The result is arugula growing along her walkways and plants peeking out from under bushes.
It’s pretty easy to steal her technique.
I had some kale plants that were literally four years old. They were gangly and infested with harlequin bugs. Yet, before they hit the compost pile, I let them go to seed. I gathered handfuls of the dry seed