I'm about to.
As I was watering the gardens today, I noticed a couple of struggling plants, which is understandable in these days of drought. The sage is a crispy gray pile of rubble. The larkspur has little threads of straw dangling from its stems. The monarda has an ugly case of powdery mildew. And the 'Gold Bullion' centaurea is a ghost of its former self.
It would be easy to just stop trying to get things through until there's a break in the weather (surely it's coming...) and say to all the flowers and vegetables and trees and shrubs, "You're on your own now. Live or die, we've done all we're going to do."
We'd have about three more hours in the day to do other things beside water. We'd learn what's really drought tolerant or not. But all of the care and love and tending we've done thus far would be lost on so many things.
We wanted this garden and we have invested dollars and days into making it what it is. We have worked hand in hand with God to create this haven for the butterflies and for ourselves. When I walk through the arbor of Max's Garden, I become a different person, because it's a different world there and I leave the other one behind, as if I've gone to Fantasy Island.
We won't stop watering because as gardeners it's our responsibility to do what we can to help our plants be all they can be. There are rewards for doing so, and we can't expect it to always be easy. Times like this happen now and then and we'd better learn to take the bad with the good.
Sounds a bit like parenting, doesn't it?
We'll hang in there because this too shall pass. But I sure wish it would hurry.