The first dead lawn I've seen in the neighborhood. This property changed hands recently. The previous owners (I think) planted lawn and put in boxed Olive trees, and planted bedding begonias around the olives, perhaps for the purpose of curb appeal when the property was for sale. Lawn around olive trees makes no sense. The olives look better without the lawn. A few Salvia leucantha would nice, planted in the fall, when they can establish on the lavish winter rain we will get. I hope the owners know that recently planted olive trees need irrigation. Xeric plants are xeric when established, not before.
Back at home, experimenting with washing machine waste water--it's a matter of figuring out how best to get it to plants.
Our machines are located where getting the waste water to any planted area is not without complications. So far, using the small trash pump and a long hose to send the water to the Syzygiums in the back is the most simple. This morning I used a watering can and gave every clump of Hemerocallis a can full--that took more effort. I'm going to get some laundry detergent advertised as good for greywater and see what dies and what doesn't.
Next on the topic of killing stuff, got rid of two beautiful Hydrangeas, both just about to start blooming. I would call them legacies of earlier days when I was first learning to garden. Both were a souvenir from a Northern California vacation we took in 2004. I bought them at Vintage, once a premier seller of just about every rose cultivar you could think of. Vintage briefly tried selling Hydrangeas also. Vintage went out of business because of a double-whammy: the popularity of roses diminished in the late 00's and the real estate bubble burst in '08. The two hydrangeas were a souvenir of a few different things--memories of a lovely vacation with my Love, an era, a nursery, a skill set, a point of view. Goodbye to that.
I thought about waiting until after they bloomed, but they'll bloom for months--too long, too much water. Buh-bye.
The memories don't die, of course, but they are less recalled when the plant that regularly raises them from the roiling stew of consciousness is sent to the dump.