In the Heat of the Night, What is Happening to the Earth?

Unless you sleep in a waterfall or have a person stranding by to fan you, you are hot. Hot is a euphemism. It is global climate warming like "Inconvenient Truth," that is causing us to rethink what we do with plants. I used to live in the desert southwest in Saguaro National Forest territory. What we looked at out the window were javelinas. They can endure heat because their dispositions are like, wart hogs, snarling all the time. They know how to apply mudpacks better than we do and they have no objection to scaring up some dust devils.

In their native environment, and Tucson was not always this way, their climate prefers ocotillos, mesquite and Palo Verde beetles, with the trees. They also have Joshua trees, saguaros, and some jumping cactus, chollas. The Gila monster and the gecko are plentiful along with tarantulas.

When Mayor Hickenlooper proposed the million trees for the region I think he was blimey, as in Australia, down under, because deciduous trees simply cannot endure this heat unless they have a rain shower every day, which is how I water them. Forget all of the curb plantings of ash, maple and locusts, even forget cottonwoods. Tumbleweeds are fine and so are dry, dry land grasses.

Many people think that word is "Zeroscape," meaning no water. Xeriscape plants are intolerant to the diametric equation of little water. A plant like snow in the meadow requires a lot of water not to die back to a ghost town on a slope. It is also a necessity these days to put two feet of mulch not just around the roses but the big leaf trees, a concept that drives horticulturists blimey. Conditions are not fit for gardener or newt or eft or "foul." It is too hot for anything to withstand the dryness, and that is the second reason that this is global climate change, the rain is not falling to earth.

I hope that someone is reading this unpleasant truth. It is killing me.