Summary

The author discusses the impact of an early and severe drought on their garden and the struggle to balance water conservation with the desire to maintain their beloved garden, which serves as a source of personal solace and joy.

Abstract

The author describes a situation where an unusually early and prolonged drought has led to water restrictions and the threat of their garden dying. Despite having gotten rid of hose pipes, the author feels compelled to use water to nurture new plants and ensure the growth of strawberries and other vegetation. The water usage for the garden has increased significantly, leading to internal conflict due to the importance of water conservation. The author has implemented measures to reduce water consumption in other areas, such as limiting showers, and reflects on the disparity in water access and usage, drawing a comparison to the situation in Cape Town. The garden is portrayed as a sanctuary and a passion project that the author is determined to save, even at the cost of personal comfort and hygiene.

Opinions

The author views the garden as a crucial element for mental well-being and as a therapeutic space that provides peace and satisfaction.
There is a sense of frustration and irony regarding the water restrictions, given the previous months of heavy rainfall and the inefficiency of water storage and management.
The author criticizes the disparity in water usage, highlighting the excesses of the wealthy in areas like Cape Town, where residents face severe water shortages.
The author is willing to make personal sacrifices, including reducing showers and enduring discomfort, to ensure the survival of their garden.
There is a strong commitment to sustainability and resource conservation, as evidenced by the efforts to train family members to limit water use and the author's own willingness to forgo showers.
The author expresses a deep connection to the garden, equating its need for water to that of a therapy dog, and emphasizing that the garden's well-being is as important as their own.

CLIMATE CHANGE

I’d Rather Go Dirty Than Watch My Garden Die

Another summer, another drought

A tiny taste of my garden. Author’s photo.

Last summer, one of our closest reservoirs dried up so much that you could see the ruined medieval village that sits at the very bottom of it.

Not surprisingly, we had district-wide hose pipe bans that kept being extended, and extended further.

But none of this came into play until July and August last year. It’s rare to have extended dry spells before that, and especially rare to have extended dry, sunny, and relatively hot spells before that. A couple of weeks maybe but that’s not enough to do any long-term damage to our land and our water supplies.

However, this year, the heat was already turned up by mid-May and we have barely seen a drop of rain since, if at all. I vaguely remember that it may have rained a little one evening during the first week of this high pressure, but the vagueness of my memory reflects the ambiguity that it ever happened.

Now, some places are already looking as dry as they did last August, and wildfires have already broken out in Scotland, in the area of Loch Ness. That was before we even reached the month of June.

Yet this kind of thing is almost unheard of for the British Isles!

After months of relentless, often lashing rain from late October through late April, I was caught off-guard by a letter from the water board to tell me that not only was the hose pipe ban from last year still in place, despite the oceans’ worth of water that had fallen on these fair lands, but they would be extending it again from the 25th of that month.

It seemed a bizarre thing to do. But now I understand why.

Hose pipes? They’re a pain in the butt most of the time and I had finally gotten rid of the two I owned because they were just taking up space. I prefer, most of the time, to let nature do her thing.

However, I soon realised that I needed to give some water to the new babies I was nurturing in my garden — some clematis, jasmine, and a couple of perennials I have forgotten the names of, that I had just planted, soon after the dry spell began.

I began by using just a couple of litres per day to help them settle.

The weather grew drier so I increased it by a litre per day.

It grew drier (and hotter) still, and by now my strawberry plants had dropped their petals and the beautiful berries were starting to grow. Heaps of them.

But strawberries need water to grow plump so I started giving all of them water too, and suddenly my daily water usage on my garden is up to a minimum of twenty litres per day.

Hose pipe or not, I’m pushing it with my water usage at a time I know I shouldn’t.

So what to do?

Being frugal with resources is something I have worked at for quite some time, so I do have that on my side.

In recent months, I’ve trained the young people who are living with me — the ones who were used to showering as and when they wanted in their life in the Philippines — to limit their showers each day to just one ten-minute one. And that’s way longer than I usually need.

The truth is, I’d happily let myself go un-showered now and again in order to conserve water, and I’d let the family smell a little too quite happily. I mean, we tested it out a couple of months back when the bath needed resealing and everyone survived without stinking each other out, so why not now?

I know we’re lucky and our water situation is far better than many in the world have it. It never ceases to amaze me how spoilt many of us, especially in the west, are.

I remember hearing from a South African friend how terrible the water situation was at the time in Cape Town, how people weren’t able to flush their toilets, and how precious drinking water was. Soon after that, I happened to see some acquaintances on Facebook attending a big event in a 6-star hotel in Cape Town, complete with water features throughout the hotel. I doubt very much they had any limitations on flushing their toilets during their stay. And possibly had no idea whatsoever that things were as bad as they were for the residents in the town that surrounded them.

Oh, ignorance is bliss. But I’d rather know and have the option to do my bit to help than remain ignorant of the situation.

Yet when it comes to my garden, I can’t bear to see it die.

It’s a passion project that I put my heart and soul into. It soothes me when I feel overwhelmed by life. It’s a little haven of peace when all else is in turbulence.

For me to see plants, flowers, and any fruits and veggies through to bloom and harvest is probably more important to me at this time of year than pretty much anything else. My garden is my special place. It’s where I rear living beings that don’t answer back and that always show their gratitude.

The bugs and slugs may not play according to my rules and standards, but my baby plants shower me with love through their green and lush beauty, and the adolescent ones gift me bountiful blooms and sweet fruits.

I would sacrifice my favourite foods, my time, my work, and probably my kids in order to be able to sit in a garden of beauty that my hard work created, and munch the fruits of my and nature’s combined labour.

I would even sacrifice my showers. Or at least, some of them.

Every single vision I had of my home before we moved in and in the first months of living here included flowers and greenery in abundance. And I worked hard to make it happen.

Check these photos of the early progress from the beginning of the first spring we were here:

And here it is today:

So now, in these times of water shortage, take water from my showers, my family’s showers, even the dogs’ baths. Let us all go dirty and stinky if need be.

But please, don’t stop me from quenching the thirst of my small yet abundant garden. Think of it like a therapy dog only a little thirstier.

It needs me. But I need it more!