Our garden is weathering the California drought in fairly good shape. Despite signs of stress, the trees look as if they will all survive. Some of the succulents seem, if anything, happier than in the past. (Maybe I had inadvertently been overwatering them.) Our water usage, happily, is keeping within the Utility District’s guidelines.

All this on a lot that was largely covered in lawn when we moved here in 1998. I’d like, of course, to claim credit for far-sightedness, but I can’t do it in good conscience. Truth to tell, the whole thing has been a bit like evolution in the natural world, one change triggering others until the whole space has become radically different. By happy accident, the movement was in the right direction.

The lawn, for example—did I get rid of it because it’s a water-hog? Well, I was aware that lawns were less than ideal for the far West, but I thought of them as problem for Las Vegas or Los Angeles. Mostly, I just don’t like tending lawns. I like the serenity of a great sweep of grass. But I spent quite enough time mowing the stuff as a child—I mean real mowing, with a child-powered reel mower, in the heat of the Oklahoma summer.

Some of the lawn turned into perennial beds and a small vegetable garden, the rest we covered with bark for walks and open space. We kept the wisteria for the shade it cast on the terrace as well as the glory of its spring blooms—and moved a couple of badly-sited peach trees to less awkward spots, where they flourished for the next twelve years until felled by some of the numerous diseases to which they’re prone.We also added a few other small trees—a Japanese maple ( a type called Okagami) in front of the house, a fig tree in back, given us by a friend, and a quince to provide fruit for pies. Most recently, an apricot has replaced the lost peaches.

But our most drought-adaptive innovation was accidental. I had some cactus and succulents in pots from the deck of my previous house. They were getting cranky about being confined, but I didn’t have time to go find them new and bigger pots. So I stuck them in the ground in a spot that proved to be what they’d been waiting for all along. That, of course, encouraged adding other, similar things to the area until they made a screen between the work area in front of the shop and the area for sitting and reading and eating lunch on a warm day—something we particularly value since our part of Oakland is usually too windy and cool to eat dinner out of doors.

With the reality of drought upon us, we’ve become more attentive to separating the modest areas that require summer water from those that need little or none. Hellebores, for example, are under the maple tree, where one can water both at once. Similarly, the “Cinco de Mayo” rose is near the quince tree and pots that need regular watering are under the wisteria.

In other areas, I’ve been changing the plantings. In the front garden, I gave up on ajuga as ground cover and planted Salvia sonomensis and some beautiful rosy pink California wild buckwheat plants. A few lavenders round out that area. To the other side of the maple tree is another dry zone, anchored by a manzanita that I planted years ago and thought would never take hold. It has finally emerged this year as a beautiful shrub and looks as if it has no idea that we’re going through anything like a drought.

The garden is a bit less colorful, over all, than in the past. But it doesn’t take much red or bright pink to light it up. The flowers of a red epidendrion orchid are tiny, but the clusters are big enough and bright enough to catch the eye. The surprise lilies (Amaryllis belladonna) are blooming, as usual, in time for Labor Day. And it doesn’t take much water to keep a bright orange-red tuberous begonia in bloom or—the most recent addition—a “Bishop of Llandaff” dahlia with brilliant red flowers above somber purple foliage.

Oh, and the drought has had one advantage:  I am actually ahead of the weeds for the first time in this garden. That said, I’m willing for the weeds to return in force in the coming year. It would be a small price to pay for having the rains back.