Thunder Teases of Monsoon Rain

The distant rumble of thunder gave us a smattering of hope that the much needed monsoon had finally arrived. But after a few sprinkles, the clouds rolled on. Such a tease! The fickle rain tickled another neighborhood instead. 

cactus trying to escape the heat

Monsoon season can't come soon enough for us....

You know it's bad when your cactus can't hack the heat!  Even the decorative metal animals seem fatigued. (Or is it just me?)

I know, I know...I heard. The monsoon will be late this year.

"The weather systems that kept the area cool in the spring also suppressed high pressure from moving north into the Four Corners region that brings the necessary heat to build monsoon storms in the area. A thunderstorm requires moisture and heat. Without heat to combine with the moisture, thunderstorms won’t come to Southern Arizona until later in the summer, as the high pressure starts to slowly move north," announced meteorologist Jeremy Michael.

Is Jeremy saying it's not hot enough!  Despite extra mulch and water, this "drought tolerant" heritage fig is down to it's last leaf!

The long hot summer (yeah, I know it's early July) has taught me a thing or two - like maybe those baby figs need some shade covering like the loquat in the background.

And it taught me to be resourceful....

As a result of the late monsoon, I was disappointed to find no purslane growing in our alleyway.  (It usually requires 2 or 3 downpours to sprout.) But I did notice purslane popping up by the emitter at a certain Korean restaurant in our neighborhood. I grabbed a handful of these edible weeds by the roots. I always wash purslane over a bowl so I can pour the little black seeds where I want them to grow in my yard.

So after enjoying the yummy leaves and stems, I planted those seeds and the roots in the basin by our loquat tree.  I figure while I'm cooling off our thirsty loquat, I might as well get double duty out of that water. While I was at it, I went ahead and soaked some beans and planted them there to put nitrogen in the ground. Six beans sprouted. There's one left after the lizard had it's share. Here is what he left of the purslane...

As my bare feet sizzled in the morning sun, I decided I had to do something for the poor bees and birds. I set up a makeshift birdbath - a tomato cage holding a Pyrex pie pan. 

magnifying glass or bird sauna? 

But it was so hot! I was afraid the clear Pyrex might act as a magnifying glass and start a fire - or at least heat up a scalding bath. 

My solution was to purchase a metal plant stand ($20 at Ace) and a terra cotta clay pot bottom ($10.)  I re-purposed some spiritual message rocks (from a super-loud meditation fountain that an ex-boyfriend got me) to place on the bottom for bees to rest on while they drank. Success! The terra cotta pot keeps the water nice and cool. 

On the bright side, the heat showed me which plants were really drought tolerant. Our desert-adapted heritage pomegranate is hanging in there nicely. (It does get more shade than the figs...)  Our Mexican Honeysuckle are surviving on just  rinse water! Dan's Charlie Brown mesquite tree is flourishing without any extra water. (See last pic below.) And our moringa have come back from the roots (after dying in the deep freeze). Some of the bottom leaves have yellowed. Perhaps they are using their resources to support the new blossoms?!

Another benefit...the delayed monsoon gave us plenty of time to prepare for planting the rain. 

With only a straw sombrero to shield him from the sun, Dan spread out the last truck load of mulch in our front yard basin. 

Coming Soon...hopefully

Find out how our completed catchment basin fares in the coming downpour. 

Planting Hope

I watched as the scraggly squirrel that lives in our backyard spotted the bright red blossom on our willowy baby pomegranate tree from its perch on our fence.

When Dan planted the durable, heritage pomegranate and fig trees in our greywater basin, he knew we wouldn't be harvesting them anytime soon. It would be a while before the little pomegranate would even be able to bear the weight of its fruit. Watching the scruffy squirrel scamper away with its flower, I realized it will take years until there is enough fruit for all the garden critters, much less us. But I see now that Dan was planting more than just fruit. He was sowing something for future inhabitants - maybe our boys. He was planting hope.

As our country's political landscape heated up, we watched as one of our neighbors built a metal fortress around their yard and posted NO TRESPASSING. Meanwhile, we planted edible moringa along the sidewalk - an invitation for our neighbors to partake. I tended the seeds daily, watching happily as they peeked through their mulchy blanket reaching for rain drops. Dan had planted hope along with the rain.

And I have to admit, I needed that hope to deal with the political climate especially in the face of climate change. It seemed like everyday another environmental protection was being dismantled by our politicians. The effects of climate change were already being felt here in Tucson: the early summer with its rising temperatures and the sporadic, unreliable downpours. Our flourishing moringa was struck by a microburst!

Then the government came out with a report announcing that we had 12 years to do something to offset the worse effects of climate change. I took that as a Call to Action (as did many of my peeps.)  But some people misinterpreted that to mean it was already too late - we had 12 years until the shit hit the fan - so we might as well party and go out with a bang! That's a perfectly reasonable reaction - if there is no hope. But...

THERE IS HOPE.

There are lots of positive actions we can take to improve the outcome.

Let's start with something simple. Start by planting one native tree. Or save one tree.

I know. I know. The general response is, "How can one person make a difference?" The answer is: one person can't.  But nobody said you have to go this alone.

What if we all planted one tree? All of us. Billions of us. And then we planted a second tree...

What if  we worked together as a community to install rainwater harvesting systems in every yard to water our edible forests and gardens? There would be enough water for every home in Tucson! The city and county are already installing these systems all over town. What if we all decided to stop cooking with palm oil to prevent the industry from cutting down more of the rain-forest? Those trees sequester carbon! Sure, there's a lot more we need to do. But this is a start. Imagine how much we could accomplish if we worked together!

Right now we need to plant hope more than ever before.

We can get inspiration from the moringa that got hit by a micro burst...

It's thriving now! Growing from roots deeply planted in hope.

Read more:

For the love of Tucson: Creating a desert oasis to combat climate change

Remnants of Hurricane Bud on our Yard: The Agony and Ecstasy

I wasn't sure how our moringa and edible forest would fare while we were away for a two week trip to Lebanon, Missouri. I had left directions on how to water the yard with my distracted son.  Saturday night we came home to this... Our littlest moringa had doubled it's size! The ground was still wet from two days of lovely rain - the remnants of Hurricane Bud.

The next morning I surveyed our terrain. The little moringa seemed to grow overnight. The wonders of a good downpour!

I was delighted to find the "dead" moringa stump (I had given up on after loyally watering it everyday with the rest of the moringa) had finally sprouted a branch! The palo verde/moringa mulch was holding the water nicely. The mulch, along with the native grass in the basin, had also prevented erosion! 

The tallest moringa had grown another foot! It towered over Dan's head. My reward for smuggling three dime bags of my moringa tea in my luggage for my mother? Now we have plenty! 

I found out later that Josh hadn't watered them at all in the two weeks we were gone...

Oh, no! Déjà vu!  Closer inspection uncovered some dead branches. Our old friends the ants were back again wreaking havoc on one of our moringas. 

But right next to it, the morning sun shimmered on some budding blooms offering me a ray of hope.

The effects of Bud's downpour on our desert landscaping caused a roller coaster of emotions!

While watering the young chiltepin, grape plant, and Tombstone Rose, I spotted a line of erosion from the rain dripping off the roof. Before monsoon season starts, Dan really needs to install gutters leading to water barrels to redirect and save that rainwater!  Funny, I never noticed a line of erosion before Dan dug out the Burmuda grass. It seems that the elaborate root system of the die hard grass prevented erosion.

Click on the photo above to see how the little patch of mulch and weeds (native grass and purslane) interrupted the erosion seen on either side of grape plant. (Note: Dan advised that you wouldn't want a big mound of mulch retaining water right up to the foundation of the house.) For the first layer of mulch I used clippings from the native grass I found in the front yard. I didn't worry about the seeds because I knew that the roots from the grass would work with the mulch to create a sponge to retain the water like it did in our street-side catchment basin. I was happy to discover that the sponge also helped prevent erosion.  

My daily watering was doing double duty by nourishing the edible purslane, too. Actually, it's doing triple duty since I planted some cowpeas to add nitrogen to the soil.

I have gleaned from this little patch of purslane three times - leaving the roots and some branches so it can grow back. And it did! Think I'll grab me a little snack now! Yum! Refreshing citrusy greens! (I wash it before I munch. At least I'm secure in the knowledge that there's no herbicide on the edible weeds in MY yard. Hear that city council!)

The nearby Tombstone rosebush is also doing well in it's bed of organic mulch, native grass and used coffee grounds. The cowpea seeds I planted to add nitrogen to the soil also help with erosion. 

Now it's time to water the backyard edible forest with the rainwater collected in our blue rain barrels! 

Unfortunately, the leaves of our loquat tree in the greywater basin got fried despite Josh washing some loads of laundry and dutifully hand watering it two times a day. Maybe I should have given the non-native waterhog more shade to survive the brutal June sun. Live and learn.  

The walls of the basin also suffered some flood erosion near the loquat tree. 

To be honest, there was already some erosion from the rocks Dan put in the greywater basin to slow down the flow. So many lessons learned! We really need more mulch in the basin. But the winter wheat we planted to infiltrate the floor of the basin is helping to prevent erosion and breaking down into mulch.

The heritage fig trees and pomegranate are doing great thanks to Josh for watering them and the welcome remnants of Hurricane Bud. Oh, the agony and ecstasy! 

Growing our Edible Forest

We have a dream of transforming our previously gravel yard into a desert oasis with an edible forest and native pollinators irrigated with rainwater.  We have a long way to go. Just making our landscape as water efficient and sustainable as possible is an experimental process.

It all started by observing where our water was puddling during our magnificent monsoons. First, we made some small changes such as removing a few bricks at the end of the patio to allow it to drain into our Mexican Honeysuckle. And it worked beautifully! No more mosquito breeding pool! And our Mexican Honeysuckle perked right up!

That success led to other simple adaptations like using the gutters to direct roof water into our kitchen garden.  Our kitchen garden is a little experiment in growing food using just what the desert provides to naturally nourish the soil (like compost and palo verde mulch.)  It took 3 gallons of water a day for a few herbs and a couple of tomato plants. So we started supplementing that with kitchen rinse water. Ever the optimist, Dan installed a couple of water barrels to collect more rainwater.  All for a tomato!

Maybe we'll get a bigger reward for our efforts in edible native plants...

Dan dug up all the gravel in the front yard so the rainwater would sink into the ground instead of flowing out to the street to evaporate. (We still need to add some organic mulch. It works with the roots of native grasses to form a sponge that allows the rainwater to seep into the ground and hold the moisture longer.  This is what Brad Lancaster calls "planting the rain.") We would use that water to irrigate an edible forest of native plants:  broadleaf hackberry. sweet acacia (behind ocotillo), wolf berry (in basin), desert hackberry (in foreground), and velvet mesquite. Don't know how much human food we'll get from them, but they are great pollinators. We watered them until they were established and then waited for the rain. And waited... Would it ever rain?

We needed something really drought tolerant that we could eat, so we decided to plant moringa in our street side basin. Moringa leaves, flowers, and pods are all edible and highly nutritious - and not just for wildlife. We sowed the moringa seeds in June so they would be well established by monsoon season. It took about a gallon of water a day to get them started until the monsoon rains finally took over. The incredible thing is that the moringa continued to grow after the monsoons ended even though we weren't watering them! They still have flowers and pods! Gonga!

Now we're watching to see what they do in the first frost.

In our backyard, we planted another edible forest of Kino fig and pomegranate trees. (See pic at top of page.)  We chose these heritage trees because they have adapted to the desert.  Twice a week we slow watered them using a five gallon bucket with two small holes. Dan finally found the time to dig out a catchment basin around the fruit trees and to install a laundry to landscape system to irrigate them. "Celebrate good times! Oh, yeah!"  He still needs to shape it a bit and fill it up with organic mulch. (The mulch holds the moisture and releases nutrients as it breaks down.) He managed to get it installed just in time for the winter rains!

What's next? It's back to shaping the front yard basin and filling it with a truck load of mulch. There's so much more we want to do when we have the time and money. A chicken coop by the big garden... Our friendly neighbor has offered to let us connect a cistern to the gutter on his roof to water our that garden! It's all a process!

Gotta love the process!

3 Sisters: Sowing Strength in Solidarity

This summer Dan and I conducted a little experiment. We wanted to find out if hardy desert crops could survive the long, hot Tucson summer on just monsoon rains. Dan tried the traditional Iroquois method of building mounds for the 3 SISTERS: Tohono O'odham 60 day corn, brown tepary beans, and Ha:al squash. These complimentary crops become stronger by working together. The beans provide nitrogen to the soil. The corn provides stalks for the beans to climb and shade for the squash. And the squash, in turn, provides ground cover to keep out weeds. (Of course, the Hohokam had a system of channels that drew from the Santa Cruz River that flowed year around back then and the Tohono O'odham did flood plain irrigation.) 

After a couple of light showers, we watched as the seeds began to sprout. (Though some mysterious varmint was eating the leaves off of the tops of the beans and only a couple of squash leaves unfurled.) A volunteer squash in our compost pit was doing better. Unfortunately, there wasn't much of a monsoon this summer, so we watched disheartened as our garden withered away. On one of the mounds, a single bean plant survived, and there were two wilted corn stalks still clinging to life on another. So I dug three holes next to the bean plant, put some compost at the bottom, and replanted the corn and the volunteer squash. Storm clouds came and went as we waited... and waited... and waited for rain.

As I watched the effect of the drought on our garden, I became more conscious of how much water we use in our home. We started saving dishwater for our thirsty Mexican Honeysuckle. We bought what we thought was environmentally friendly dish soap. But it turned out to contain more salt than we would have liked, so we have to alternate between the soapy dishwater and the clear rinse water to help flush the salt build-up out of the soil.

The downspout we installed was useless without rain. So we began to use the water from rinsing off our produce to water a little kitchen garden where I had planted some potatoes that sprouted. We also watered the remaining 3 Sisters mound. (You don't want to use water with meat particles in food gardens because it could transmit pathogens.) The bean plant is still hanging in there, and the potato plants are growing nicely all from water that would have gone down the drain. I know, I know, it would be so easy to just turn on the hose. But this is just a drop in the dish bucket compared to how many Hopi and Navajo have to conserve water.

While we are "experimenting" with saving water, members of 280 Native American tribes have gathered together at Standing Rock, South Dakota to fight for water! They have put their bodies on the front line to stop the construction of the crude oil pipeline that will go under the Missouri River - the main source of water for the tribe and 17 million other Americans. A federal judge recently rejected the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe's petition to stop construction of the Dakota Access Pipeline. But later that day, the US Army, Justice, and Interior departments jointly announced they would temporarily stop the pipeline work until the environmental impact is investigated. The pipeline continues to be built in other areas.

Dan and I celebrated that victory with a symbolic dinner of the 3 Sisters. To me it represented the strength these courageous protectors have shown by working in unity.

Corn, beans, zucchini. tomato, and onions topped with queso fresco on a masa patty.

The tribes understand that this is just the beginning. Many have set up camp for the Winter. The Sioux have been joined by other tribes who have also been exploited for their land and water, including: the Navajo, the Hopi, the San Carlos Apache, and our local Tohono O'odham. It is inspiring to see these tribes uniting for a shared cause and working together to meet the needs of the camp - educating the children, keeping up morale, providing firewood, medical care, spiritual support, and traditional meals.

Water is Life!

We may not be on the front lines fighting for water, but we can march in solidarity here in Tucson, sign the petition to stop the pipeline, contact our representatives, and try to conserve water. (Here are some other ways we can help.) Like the 3 Sisters, we are stronger when we work together.

Sign the petition to stop police in riot gear from arresting the brave journalists covering this historic fight.

Contact the banks funding the Dakota Access Pipeline.

Donate to the Legal Defense Fund. 

How Does Our Garden Grow?

One of the things we are working on is not wasting food. But inevitably we would discover moldy, slimy vegetables at the bottom of our curiously named "vegetable crisper." We figured at least we could compost those uneaten vegetables so they wouldn't go completely to waste.  Little did I know that the stinky compost pile would lead to ME actually gardening! 

HISTORY OF THE GARDEN: When my ex and I first moved into this house in 1996, we discovered a fenced in garden area and the remains of an elaborate, antiquated watering system. As I examined the garden remains, I had flashbacks of working up a sweat picking my Nana’s green beans on her little farm during that long, humid Missouri summer. Moments like that inspired me to dub the state “misery.” Well, that and all the ticks and chiggers. Nana would coax us on with, “We’ll get to eat all the yummy food we pick!”  But I detested the bland green beans that filled her freezer. Kazaam! An eighty-year old man appeared in the garden! He showed us how to start a garden in the plot he had built back in the 60s. He picked up a hoe and started removing weeds.

We were pretty much obliged to garden at that point. That season we grew more romaine lettuce than we could eat. My strict vegan sister strongly encouraged us to grow her some organic vegetables. She came over one time and harvested ONE head. The carrots were pretty pathetic and more work than they were worth.

There were some good times. I remember digging a hole about the size of a mop bucket and planting pieces of an old potato that had grown roots. I watered my little garden hole faithfully and eventually potato plants surfaced. The little curly-haired neighbor girl, who used to drive her pink Barbie electric car around the block, helped me dig up the tiny potatoes. It was like a treasure hunt! We savored our potato lunch.  That little girl is now a college graduate. I ran into her a few months ago. She asked if I still had a garden. She remembered it fondly.

artifacts of gardens past 

I’m afraid I let down that curly haired moppet, Nana, my previously vegan sis, and our fairy gardener. Those were the only foods me and my ex ever grew in the garden.  Mostly we grew weeds. When my son was seven he helped me weed the garden. We “planted” fossilized stones, petrified wood, and collectible rocks to be dug up at his paleontology birthday party. Dan and I still unearth the occasional polished rock, toy shovel, action hero or truck. Just the other day, Dan dug up the habitat that a pet crab was buried in.

A big motivation for starting our garden was to see if anything could grow in our desert soil (research for Dan's Sonoran Gardener app.) We began with heat resilient heritage plants. You might remember the blog post where I bemoaned weeding the garden just so Dan could replant weeds in it. While the purslane flourished in the alleyway behind our house, the edible weeds didn’t survive the move. 

organic mulch of dried grass 

Next, Dan selected some heritage and seasonal seeds from the seed library.

He planted Sonoran winter wheat and carrots, radishes, kale, chard, turnips, and cilantro. Remember the fragrant compost pile? He didn't use any of it. (It wasn't ready....) He covered it with an organic mulch of dried grass (weeds!) and the leaves that fell from the huge eucalyptus trees overhead. I was sure that the weeds would grow more weeds. We watered it with a sprinkler three days a week.

What did we learn from our Test Garden?

We learned we could actually grow food in that soil. Yeah!

We (correction... I) learned to not to irrigate during the day, or it will only evaporate. (Yes, smarty pants knew.)

We learned to snip the leaves off of our cilantro and leave the stems to grow more leaves.

We learned that radish greens are delicious sautéed with sliced radishes.

We learned we liked steamed chard from our garden better than store-bought spinach.

We learned that only Dan will eat the kale.

We learned that the mulch didn't regrow grass and that the eucalyptus leaves and bark weren't as good as the grass mulch. (Darn it...those trees shed so much every Fall!)

I learned that you can keep the weeds up by pulling a few every morning. And that I feel satisfaction by staying on top of them.

I learned that I should probably stretch my creaky old bones before weeding.

I learned to bring out a step stool to sit on rather than straining my back.

We learned that gardens attract lizards, (a HUGE horny toad!) and birds - even quail.

We learned why our little patch of Sonoran wheat kept shrinking...

We learned that those stubborn carrots need more water or ya don't get nothin'.

We learned the turnips were the slowest to grow. Gotta keep watering 'em.

We learned that the cilantro turns into coriander seeds - plenty of seeds to replant or grind into a handful of spice.

I learned that I actually like gardening. It was an excuse to get outside, sink my hands in the soil, and enjoy the morning breeze as lizards skitter about and birds chirp in the palo verde tree.

And sometimes I still feel the presence of my fairy gardener.