Topic 176: Backyard Gardens

Carol:

Why I Don’t Have a Backyard Garden

I have had a subscription to Sunset Magazine for over 30 years. I originally bought it for the person I wanted to be someday, and I still read it for that fantasy woman who grows heirloom tomatoes in container gardens, weaves baskets to harvest the tomatoes, and has all the latest tools carefully arranged in a quaint potting shed. June’s Sunset cover article is “Create a Dreamy Backyard Retreat,” which set me off on another imaginary trip to a future where I actually have a dreamy backyard retreat for reading, meditating, and munching  healthy snacks featured in old issues of Sunset Magazine.

Brother's garden, Phoenix, AZ.

I guess it’s time to just admit that I enjoy reading about my fantasy life more than actually doing the work to make it come true, including  the notion of a little haven of zen-like quiet and English country, blooming color built off the  the cement pad behind our basement.  Here is why that will never happen:

(1)    Irrigation: water is a big issue in Arizona, and we have had our share of water problems in Williamson Valley. We used to have spigots in the back to attach hoses to water the apple tree my green thumb father planted behind the house in 1983. The tree died in 1984, and we disconnected the spigots a few years later  after a winter freeze that cracked the pipes and spewed water through the basement into the non-dreamy backyard. An irrigation system would solve the problem, but it would also  send our water bill skyrocketing and completely offset the effect of the various water-conserving appliances we have installed.

(2)    Labor: our back property slopes downhill, giving us a nice view from the top floor of the San Francisco Peaks but also  three flights of stairs to the basement, which has the only direct access to the backyard. Walking around the sides of the house to get to the backyard means tripping through the rough, granite-strewn terrain and risking injury from cat claws and cacti, the natural botanical  inhabitants of our yard. Not to mention the hard work of bending over with my creaky knees to pull thorny weeds or hauling buckets of water during drought season.

Other brother's garden, Newbury Park, CA.

(3)    Skill/Talent:  whatever you want to call the knowledge and creativity that makes a green thumbed master gardener, I don’t have it. My parents had it, my siblings have it, their children have it. My husband doesn’t have it, nor does he want it. (He was greatly relieved to buy a property without a blade of grass). My own efforts to maintain a primitive front yard garden of drought-resistant local plants are sporadic at best, and I celebrate when a single Iris blooms after a May frost.

Niece's garden, Newbury Park, CA.

(4)     Critters: those granite rocks and native plants attract all kinds of high desert creatures. Visitors to our yard have included javalina, skunks, snakes, lizards, rabbits, owls and road runners, tarantulas, scorpions and deer. We enjoy even the scary creatures from afar, but I don’t like thinking about them as part of a “dreamy backyard retreat.”

My backyard.

You get the idea by now that I can concoct any number of excuses for not having a backyard garden. The main reason is actually pretty simple. I love visiting my green thumb family and friends. I like sitting in their gardens sipping iced tea or reading Sunset Magazine while they stoop or stretch and prune, complain about their water bills, show me the bloody scratches from their thorny weeds and announce that they imagine themselves someday—after winning the lottery-- relaxing in a “dreamy backyard retreat” while a professional gardener does all the work.  

Megan:

 

I did not write today because I was busy thinking of an answer to the above question. I have since been dismissed because of my employment history, family connections to the legal profession and a confessed, innate mistrust of law enforcement. I am relieved because I am going to New Orleans next week for a job fair and jury duty would have interfered with those plans.