Xeriscapinging gone wild

In our part of the world, it is always a challenge to have enough water for the population. The summer it became a choice between water to drink and watering the yard, I began to let the grass die.

Then I discovered xeriscaping. Xeriscaping comes from two Greek words: "scaping" meaning all that one can see. "Xeri" meaning living on air. So xeriscaping is the art of turning one's yard into specific plants that can live on air. Thus one solves the water problem.

So with the money that we could have used to travel to the moon, we set out to possess a perfect xeriscaped yard.

Our efforts began with measuring the space in the back yard to be 'scaped. Having successfully staked out a large portion of the middle of the yard, I realized it was too much work for a man my age and promptly hired our yard man to do the digging. He and his wife are roughly the age of my mother. That is why we used the back yard. We have a small language barrier with our yard man so I carefully took staples and heavy string to mark out the exact places I wanted them to dig. Our dog, watched as I meticulously stapled and strung, stapled and strung. Finally, with that done, I stood as erect as I could to survey my surveying. The dog watched all of this, then with the speed of a bullet got up from her reclining position and tore through all the string within seconds. She was a marvel to behold: the speed, the agility, the completeness of her work. Murder was not an option because by this time, we had too much invested in the dog and I understand there are laws against such things unless you take them to the vet and paid them lots and lots of money to put the dog to sleep. The dog looked at me with a knowing grin that seemed to say "Gocha!"

Other slight problems arose. When, finally, the ground was partially prepared, my wife informed me she was not going to walk around the bed to carry out the trash, so, with some quick thinking, I staked out a walkway that appeared at first to be equally dividing the flower garden.

One of my many failing, I freely admit, is my inability to measure with any accuracy any item or space of any kind. I fail at measuring a three foot measuring stick. Go figure! I have purchased the best measuring tapes, electric eye devices, and still, something goes wrong. So, the walkway became a meandering strip of gravel dividing two unequal portions of a project taking on the cost overruns of a government contract.

So, with the digging done (actually purchased at a premium) I found that our local Master Gardeners were emphasizing carefully screened roses for our area to help us with our xeriscaping. I was a sucker and bought 15 of these disease resistant, pest resistant roses. One of them was a climber that survived three weeks of salt water during the hurricane Katrina. How could I go wrong with roses like this? The rest of the batch were different kinds of roses and different colors.

Next came the weed sheets. These are scientifically designed sheets of something scientifically made that cost a lot and promise to help one control weeds in their garden. Guaranteed to last for years, we tried to put these sheets down everywhere including our bathrooms and bedrooms. When one is preventing weeds, one can never be too careful. The sheets actually went down better in the house than in the back yard. Did I mention that one of the other problems we have in our area is high winds?

Now the sheets were down to prevent weeds which seem to be the only thing that grow during droughts. Next we bermed (which is a highly technical term us gardeners use for piling up mounds of dirt) the beds to reflect an artistic flair no one in our family possessed. And frankly it looked like an effort by an inartistic person to look artistic.

Finally, the beds were ready and the roses went in the ground and immediately began to die. Even the Katrina rose began to show signs it was not long for this world. I was somewhat stressed and even more distressed and more than a little depressed. All this work and expense to create a masterpiece of gardening nirvana and now it was dying before my eyes--well except for the rock walkway which the dog had developed a fondness for pooping on.

I searched the internet to find the solution and it became obvious that I was loving my roses to death. I was guilty of over-watering. I guess the concept of xeriscaping had not fully soaked in to my beady little brain. So, I started loving my roses less, watering less, and now I am the proud owner of a garden only the wealthy possess. Except, for some reason, after they have this kind of garden, they are still wealthy.