Maria and I both love gardens, but we take care of them in different ways. I don’t really understand gardener – where to plant things, what a weed is, but I love having them and feast off their color.

She is the Planter and Designer of our gardens, she decides where they shall go, she digs the holes and crawls around on her knees, which is sometimes hard for me.

I can’t do that any longer, at least not for too long. She calls me the Waterer.

Every morning, and often in the evening, I turn on the long garden house and I nourish the gardens, I give them water, I keep them cool on very hot days like today.

The farmers here all know what our political leaders are too ignorant to know, that the climate is changing, and the earth is warming, and the sun is stronger, and the soil is drier and drier.

The grass used to turn brown in August, it is turning brown now, just as it did last year in July.

We can look a way and hide and turn to greed as much as we want, but our gardens need water more than ever, and we are grateful that so far, there is a lot of water here, although many local  wells are suddenly going dry.

This morning, I went outside before the sun got too strong – days like this don’t mesh well with some of the medications I take for my heart. After I watered the back porch (and then the herb mound, and then the Three Sisters Garden) I felt refreshed, and so, I  hope did our flowers.

I like being the Waterer, the Nourisher, and Maria loves crawling around barefoot in the dirt. Our gardens have never looked more beautiful, and they are a reflection of our love and connection for one another. We both care for them in our own way.