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Has the hot, dry, windy weather made your garden look like mid-summer? Our meager spring rains have all but disappeared from the soil and what hasn't evaporated the weeds have taken. The local water companies all have water conservation requirements that began last month. I'm getting lots of calls and emails asking for advice about the best way to use water efficiently so the garden doesn't look like the Sahara this summer. I'm helping others redesign their gardens with an eye towards ongoing water conservation.

As a second round of storms hit first Northern California, then Southern California this week, several forecasters were declaring the four-year drought was finally over, at least for the north.

Often I think ‘what a wonderful life I’ve had, if only I’d realized it sooner’. Too late now to make major changes; I’ve decided to make the very best of what time is left.Married soon after high school, my plans were to become a ‘domestic diva’, another June Cleaver from the Leave it to Beaver TV show. I would send my kids off to school with pancakes, bacon and eggs ‘under their belts’ while waiting for my homemade bread to rise. I would head to the garden wearing a sunhat adorned with roses over my long golden tresses and pink rubber boots to match my hat.I would collect eggs from underneath my chickens, pick green beans and my favorite vegetable, cucumbers from my weed-free garden. Then, I would milk Molly, our family goat, daily.Then, reality and time set in. Clearly, it was only a television life that was in my thoughts.Molly ate my flowers, gophers ate my string beans and cucumbers, and weeds took over my garden. Clearly, this way of life was tougher than I had anticipated.Putting my ‘old life’ behind, several years passed. In the spring of 2002, I announced to my hubby, Norm that I had been looking through a “chicken catalog” and had come upon photos of ‘Polish’ chickens. “How cute is that Norm?” I said, “you are Polish and our chickens would be Polish too.”Norm’s only experience with any animals, much less chickens, was in a live display in Chicago’s Museum of Natural History when he was a child.“NO CHICKENS,” exclaimed Hubby! His normally pleasant-looking face had reduced itself to a no-nonsense ‘dammit, I mean it’ expression.I had to move fast — those 24 chicks were due to arrive at the post office on a nonrefundable order the next day. I had to reach Norm’s reasonable and sympathetic side quickly. That would be the only way those 24 baby chicks would be mine.Norm was furious, but I continued in a somewhat cajoling and syrupy voice; “not to worry, honey.” I said “we’ll put them in the garage on a card table in a big open box, hang a light bulb overhead and watch them grow. “ I told him “It is so simple, — you’ll learn to love them.”Sure enough, the next day the chickens arrived, and as we watched those chicks being warmed by the light bulb hanging overhead, I detected a smile on Norm’s face.The next day I was hospitalized, and in an instant, Norm became the primary caregiver to 24 baby chicks.During my recovery, those 24 chicks were growing so rapidly that their cardboard home had to be enlarged weekly, until finally they became airborne, flying and pooping on our car tops, windowsills and work benches as well as on the garage floor. Norm’s anger grew as fast as did those chicks.Finally a chicken house and yard were constructed, with only one hitch — an opening the size of a four week old chicken was left, and alas, half of our precious flock was gone during the night. A pile of feathers left by the coyote told the story. Norm was happy, I was sad.As the chicks grew it became apparent that we were left with seven roosters and only five hens; six roosters had to go. “Kill my roosters,” I screamed, “absolutely not”. It seems I had fallen into the old ‘you cannot eat a chicken you have named’ trap.Soon homes were found for those roosters and only Henery was left to guard the flock.Henery soon discovered he ruled the roost. He attacked anyone and everyone who came near his hens. He crowed whenever the moon shown at 3 a.m. or when we had company on our deck. Henery was a loud, majestic, beautiful Rooster. I loved Henery, Norm did not.In 2004 we made that decision that so many make, that of moving to be near our children. What about Henery? He moved along with his girls to a neighbor’s chicken yard where, I have heard, he is living still.CHILLED CREAM OF CUCUMBER SOUP (Serves 6)6 cucumbers 8” length, peeled, seeded and diced.1 cup leeks (white part only) or sweet onions, diced3 Tbsp. butter4 cups chicken broth1-1/2 tsp. white wine vinegar2 cups half and half cream4 Tbsp. quick-cooking cream of wheat2 tsp. chopped fresh dill½ tsp. tarragon1/2 cup sour creamSalt/white pepper to tasteDirections:In heavy pot, melt the butter and sauté the onions until translucent. Do not brown. Add cucumbers, broth, farina, vinegar and herbs. Simmer 30 min. Remove from heat and puree until smooth. Stir in cream and refrigerate. Garnish with sour cream.Add chicken stock and simmer for 15 min. Cool to room temperatureIn blender add cucumber mixture and blend until smooth.

Once upon a time when our area was under water

If you read my column regularly or even once in a while you’ve probably heard me lament about the difficult growing conditions here in my garden. Between the sandy soil, 5 hours of intense sun but for only 6 months of the year, gophers, squirrels, moles, deer and chipmunks I’m happy if any plant thrives. So it is with pleasure that I report to you the small successes I’ve had lately and maybe give you hope that you might also grow plants that provide some color and fragrance in your garden along with attracting hummingbirds, songbirds, bees and butterflies.