This is what an "extreme/exceptional drought" looks like. We have over a dozen cypress trees, all growing along Pecan Creek and Cypress Branch. Those along the creek were planted in 1988, as three-year-old nursery trees. I grew the others from seed collected from this tree. About half of them look like this one, as if they've been hit with the first hard freeze. No freeze. Drought, dry wind, and heat are the deadly combination that's stressing the trees. There's no relief in sight, at least through September. There's an El Nino event brewing in the eastern Pacific that may bring rain in October. Something to hope for, but maybe not too much. This is from Blake Matthews' weather blog, at KTBX in Bryan/College Station:
El Nino for south central/southeastern Texas usually means wetter than average conditions on the order of 4 to 5" of additional rainfall as upper level dynamics shift to favor a wetter and cooler temperature regime down here. El Nino also means higher than average hurricane activity in the E. Pacific. If you remember back to October of 1994, a terrible flood wiped out thousands of homes stretching from the Brazos Valley to north Houston . . . As moisture streamed in from a hurricane in the Pacific and collided with a stalled frontal boundary over the area, many places received 10 to 20 inches of rainfall that October.
While I'm waiting for October, I've mulched like crazy and water the veggie garden carefully every night. Our aquifer (the Trinity) is recharged locally (translation: it is not fossil water), so it's vulnerable to drought and over-development (translation: too many people pumping out too much water). But so far, our supply is adequate.
If you're on city water, you probably leave water concerns to your municipal water district. Here in the country, where we have responsibility for providing our own water, and where it's pumped from nearly 400 feet down in the earth, it's something we think about. (Imagine fire ants crawling into the pump wiring, dying by the 100s, and clogging the electrical switch.) Personally, I'm grateful every time I turn on the tap and water comes out. If it doesn't, we have to trek out to the well and see what's wrong. The animals also suffer in weather like this: nearly a dozen horses died in Parker County this week, due to dehydration. Tough times.
Moving along: 78,000 words on The Tale of Oat Cake Crag. Expecting to finish in about 10 days. Meanwhile, I hear from the Univ. of Texas Press that Together, Alone will be shipping in late August. That, and an early-August visit from my Alaska son have decided me to forego a vacation month in New Mexico this summer. Staying here will also allow me to get a quicker start on the next writing project: the first book in the new Darling Dahlias series. And keep an eye on the pump, the well, the weather, the garden, and the cows.
Reading note. In an age when man has forgotten his origins and is blind even to his most essential needs for survival, water along with other resources has become the victim of his indifference.--Rachel Carson
