09/29/2026
DROUGHT
By Caroline Dormon
Here in the sand hills the soil is so porous water is soon absorbed, and droughts can be devastating. It is a land of springs and clear streams, but when there is no rain for three or four months, these get low, and some dry up entirely. Dogwoods and other shallow-rooted species suffer. In the woods, where decaying leaves form a natural mulch they survive a long time. But finally, even there the moisture is gone, and dogwood leaves begin looking sick. If no rain comes these curl up and turn brown. Even then they will survive a few weeks, but eventually the trees die. Once in the past we had a five-year drought, and I lost all the old ones. Evidently the younger trees had more vitality, for they survived, and now meet over the drive once more. Stately white oaks died in the forest, for they are more shallow-rooted than most of the oaks.
Now I have a deep well, pump and hose, and can water things near the cabin. Few persons observe that dogwoods put on buds in August, which is usually a dry season. I am always amused when someone remarks, “Oh, it was so cold last winter there are no blooms on the dogwoods!” I have to tell them that the fat little buttons (buds) are not in the least damaged by cold, and the reason there are no flowers is because of drought in August. The cabin is surrounded by dogwoods, so if late summer is dry, about once a week I lay the hose beside them and let it run—moving it about from time to time. These trees never fail to bless me with their canopies of white.
Most shrubs bloom much better with an adequate supply of moisture. Roses must have it, and wild hydrangea produces much finer panicles if there is rain. If too dry, wild hibiscus drop their buds and simply refuse to flower.
Nothing is more heart-breaking to a plant lover than living through a severe drought. I have lain awake with fingers clenched, while thunder rolled, waiting for the rain that never came. When thunder diminished and clouds passed on, I was spent. The gardener plants seeds and tenderly nurses the younglings, but watering these is a difficult matter. If water is sprayed on, the earth soon forms a crust. Also, watering brings moles, who run under and deracinate little plants.
But at last clouds decide to release their moisture and there comes a gentle patter on the roof. What sound could be more beautiful! The rain has come—God’s sweetest gift to man!
