The Quandry of "Wilt"

The garden has responded to last night’s rain with renewed determination. You can almost hear the plants struggle to say, “I think I can, I think I can . . .” This summer’s early extreme temperatures lasting for days at a time have left the garden begging for respite. I try to reassure it with my morning walk, encouraging each plant that seems to be ready to give up the good fight.

I must check out the cause of this “wilt” thing that so many are giving way to. Too much heat? Too much exposure to the new grass irrigation? Plants too close together with no breathing room? Or heaven help us, something in the soil? This year was my first seeming success with tomato plants which actually birthed double digit numbers of absolutely divine tomatoes -- but then the wilt took hold and only one withered plant of the four remains. I can only hope that the two pink tomatoes clinging to its vine will ripen as a last minute tribute to their host.

And then there’s this wilt problem with my oak hydrangeas. This year and its rains brought wonderful new green leaves and freshened up the existing two or three plants that have stood on this particular shady side of the garden for years. But over the last few days several of the old stalks, the ones with the summer’s blooms, have withered or wilted away. I must check with Salvador to see if he might have put the mulch too close around the plant. Could it be suffocating?

One cause for excitement on this morning’s walk was the beautiful New Dawn rose bloom reaching out from its intended arbor to catch the morning sun. While one might say it is in need of threading back through the arbor, how can I blame it’s long reach for those warm rays. I too would have escaped such confinement, pointing my pink petaled face toward my maker in order to bloom one last time this season -- “I thought I could, I thought I could!”

Rain is a threat again for the afternoon. I shall not complain, even though it leaves behind its constant Southern summer companion, humidity. This year’s rain has been such a gift to those of us who garden, and after several summers’ droughts, I know how to appreciate afternoon showers. Bring them on . . . . . even at the expense of a bit of wilt. Like Life, just another trade off.