Drought, drought go away

“Don’t it always seem to go that you don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone?”

I don’t normally go to Joni Mitchell to refine my ideological view of the world, but her old song about the yellow taxi taking away her boyfriend pretty much sums up the trouble with dwindling resources: “You don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone!”

Ponder that the next time you breeze down Ga. 400 and pass high above the Chattahoochee in the climate-controlled comfort of your automobile. It’ll still be there, lovely and green, and perhaps a few canoes or kayaks will be floating peacefully past the lush green trees and wildflowers on the river bank. No trouble there, right? You wish.

We are now in the teeth of the worst drought I can remember in the well over half a century that I’ve lived off and on in the Atlanta Metro area. There are tales of droughts many years ago that left the Chattahoochee with a tiny trickle running down the middle of the river bed. We are not there yet, but we might as well be.

As I described in a recent column, we North Fulton denizens have a water problem, and it’s easy to understand. We live too close to the North Georgia Blue Ridge where our watershed begins. There is not enough distance between those ridges and where we live to provide adequate water for a big rolling river. The Chattahoochee just isn’t big enough to get us through a serious drought.

So why should we be worrying? The drought will go away, and we’ll just get back to normal, right? Don’t kid yourself. If Metro Atlanta continues to grow at a rate of about 80,000 people per year, we can assume that we will be putting lots more burden on the Hooch over the next couple of decades.

All the low-water-usage toilets in the world can’t prevent us from having trouble. There have been sustained patterns of droughts long before the global warming crowd came on the scene. We can’t assume that we won’t be seeing more dry weather in years to come.

Most of us are not members of the “no growth” lunatic fringe, unless, of course the Wal-mart is being built next to our house. Just the same, even a reasonable person understands that none of us is willing to live like a bushman from the Kalahari.

What can you do as a concerned citizen? You probably already know, but here are some thoughts:

•As your shrubs die thanks to our current outdoor watering ban, replace them with drought-resistant species. They may not be quite as pretty, but they will be alive.

•Forget your obsession with an emerald green lawn. Let if go brown during droughts.

•Catch dehumidifier water to perk up your plants. Also, gray water from dish washing and showers is OK to use too. A little soapy dishwater might keep the aphids away.

•Catch your rain water in a barrel. The Len Foote Hike Inn up in North Georgia has beautiful native plants all around its property, and thanks to rainwater in barrels, the plants are looking mighty fine.

•Learn about the issues, and get to know your elected officials. Make them know that water and voting go hand in hand.

We’re all beginning to realize it’s time to start getting serious. I’m with Joni Mitchell on this one. We waited too late before we all started getting appropriately panicked. Something’s gotta give, because we can’t load this problem into a big yellow taxi.