A lot of trees have died since the drought began in 2010. I've taken photos of over forty tree stumps in a small Austin park in my neighborhood, great trees that have been lost. Every one of them is worth remembering.

The first photo above is from Pedernales Falls, a state park in the Texas Hill Country. When the hardy local junipers that have thrived and multiplied for decades in seasons wet and dry begin to die off, you know conditions are very much out of the ordinary. It hasn't rained much this year where I live.

Meanwhile, a lot of the area continues to look green, in ways that seem to contradict whether there is a drought or not. Fresh sod is brought in and brightens the surroundings. New trees are planted to replace the great oaks and other casualties. I say trees, but I think of some of the newcomers as 'notatrees'. Many of them thrive so well on almost no water. Their leaves stay bright green. Some perhaps aren't a part of the former eco-system.

There are also notabutterflies, and notaflowers, and notagrasses. What I mean is, many of the usual insects are not around, and the bugs and bees here are not familiar despite the nearly 30 years I've lived in this area. I've seen and posted pictures with new grasses and ground cover and flowers, some which may be merely hardy heritage varieties from our past, brought in to the rescue. I've seen hybrid birds, and miss roadrunners and bobwhites and mourning doves. I miss seeing armadillos, and the fish in some of the creeks. They may still be around, but if so, they're not visible in the kind of frequency they once were.

It is hard to accept that the intricate chain of life that evolved over eons is extensively damaged by the drought and other causes. But, I'm grateful that there are signs of some recovery even as drought and other challenging conditions (including use of insecticides and herbicides) continue. I'm grateful for whatever help the new species provide in protecting the earth from erosion, providing food for squirrels, birds, insects. I'm grateful for the people working so hard to maintain a safety net to soften the effects of collapse within the system, and for neighbors planting sunflowers and wildflowers. I'm grateful for the shade.