DOWN HOME: Drought, sprinklers & Christian living

This is the time of year when my obsessive-compulsive and conscientious natures collide.

I'm referring, of course, to my parched ponderosa, my scorched spread, my dehydrated homestead.

My yard.

On the one hand, it's torture to watch practically every plant on our lot wither day by day. In the winter, I?leave the house in the dark and return in the dark. I almost wish I could do that in August. Darkness would deliver me from the distress of discerning the degree of desiccation.

But alas, that's not the case. From morning to evening, the carnage increases. The red oaks drop more brown leaves. The bald cypress look crispier and crispier. (What developer came up with the idea to plant lovely swamp trees in North Texas, anyway?) The knockout roses have been KO'd. A huge bald patch covers the front yard where St. Augustine grass once flourished. The black-eyed susans look like they've been clobbered.

The only plants thriving in this heat are the Mexican grasses and the zinnias. Oh, and the weeds look just great.

Not long ago, a miracle happened. Drops of water fell from the sky. An oldtimer said they call that stuff "rain." But wedged as it was between a 104-degree day and another almost as hot, my abelias and broad-leaf ivy looked boiled, not beautified.

One minor episode with precipitation aside, I'm just itching to reset the controls on our sprinkler. What if we watered more mornings a week? Would the plants perk up?

And that brings us to the other hand—the conscientious side of my personality. Should anyone who lives around here do anything but water just enough to keep plants from perishing? And for the fragile flora that love-love-love water, would mercy-uprooting be the ethical thing to do?

For the past several years, I've been intrigued by the idea of xeriscaping our yard. That's a type of landscaping that radically reduces the need to water. It involves lots of rock and plants for which the term "pretty" might be considered an acquired taste.

You probably won't be surprised to know xeriscaping is expensive. Well, at least on the front end. Rocks and drought-resistant plants don't come cheap. But maybe in the long run, you make up for it with lower water bills.

So, I've been trying to take it in phases. That's why we've got the zinnias, Mexican grasses, pyracantha and a wispy smoketree.

Of course, my gardening woes are nothing compared to the challenges farmers are facing across America's heartland. This drought is beating them to a crunchy pulp. Pray for them.

Still, if living out our faith consistently matters, then we're all stewards. Even if it's just yard plants and sprinklers.