I Look Pretty Rough This August, Too

I look pretty rough this August and so do some of my plants. This summer has been taxing on my utility bills, my bald head, and my landscape. My hardy hibiscus wilts in the late afternoon. My Japanese maples have burned edges on their leaves. Some of my sedges look downright fried around the edges. And you know what? They are okay.

If you saw me after working outside in 107-degree heat, you would probably think I was dying too. I am red, wilted, sweaty and looking for shade. Give me some water, air conditioning and a little time, and somehow, I recover. Plants are not that different.

Even our toughest native and adapted plants respond to extreme heat. Leaves curl. Edges burn. Plants wilt. Growth slows. Some plants may even begin protecting themselves by dropping leaves or moving toward dormancy. These are not automatically signs of failure, and they certainly aren’t instructions to TURN UP THE IRRIGATION.

One of the biggest mistakes we make during a Texas summer is assuming that every stressed looking plant needs more water. Before you add water, check the soil. A plant can have adequate moisture around its roots and still wilt during the hottest part of the afternoon. It is responding to heat and water loss through its leaves faster than the roots can keep up. More irrigation is not necessarily the answer.

And this matters.

It is commonly estimated that outdoor water use can account for 50–70% of residential water use, particularly during summer. Think about that for a moment. Water that has been collected, treated, and processed to drinking-water standards is being poured onto our landscapes.

As a horticulturist, that has always boggled my mind.

Especially in Texas, where we are having increasingly important conversations about where our future water will come from. Our landscapes do not need to look perfect in August.

Neither do we.

A burned leaf margin is not a crisis. Afternoon wilt is not necessarily a dying plant. A native perennial going dormant is not a failure. Sometimes a plant is simply saying, It is 107 degrees. I am hot. Fair enough. So am I.

Choose plants adapted to where we live. Water deeply and intentionally when the soil tells you it is needed. Accept a little seasonal ugliness. And trust plants to use the survival mechanisms they have spent thousands of years developing. Some will look rough in August. Some will disappear after winter arrives. And many will come roaring back when conditions improve. A good gardener does not respond to every sign of stress by reaching for the hose.

Sometimes good stewardship means observing, understanding, and trusting the plant.

Your landscape does not have to look like May in August.

And frankly, neither do I.