Potential, patience, plumsauce fairies and piccadillies in a winter and boy’s wonderland
I was about 6 months pregnant and was eager to finish the house-buying process. Trying to buy a house in New York in the summer while pregnant is a bit of an uncomfortable undertaking. Getting about the New York subway with a growing belly in the heat is just enough to make one wanna scream. House upon house, we searched and searched for that special connection. Those commercials on television that showing a family in a heartwarming scene finding the house of their dreams is just a bit of a fantasy.
Tried to place a bid on one house where the yard was large and flat and I could envision my dog leaping about. Suspiciously, the owners didn’t want us to do an inspection. Really? We were all New Yorkers in that transaction; suspicion runs deep in our veins. That was a no go. Disheartened, tired and overwhelmed visited another house in a completely different area. The house was small, but what isn’t in New York? It was recently renovated with a whole new added floor. In the moment, I had the Babe movie running through my head with the farmer’s sentence repeating “that’ll do. That’ll do babe.” Indeed. There was one problem. The yard was huge. Too huge. Plus, it was vertical and steep. We couldn’t even see to he top of the property. I’m a city garden. There are no green thumbs on my hands. I just did not know how my dog could leap about. Yet, it was what it was. The property was mine thereafter.
Over the course of five years have slowly started making the yard more of an extension of the house. The first few years I would look out my back door and marvel at the brazen deer, the plump squirrels, the tiny chipmunks and the nose-twitching rabbits. The blue jays and robins were a sight to be had. The woodpeckers were not as cute as what you see in the television cartoons considering they really are loud.
What the enormous yard taught me that all things come in due time. The furs few years, I had to tend to a newborn. A yard of that magnitude was beyond my abilities and attention. Slowly, we have placed a path, laid tiles, and planted an assortment of “fauna.” A green thumb I still do not have. There are lilies and bright yellow and purple flowers about. The grapes were a miss. As were the tomatoes. However, there is mo a grand table out back that accompanied with the tiered landscape looks a bit Romanesque. Therein, come the plumsauce and piccadillies. Those are not real but are a figment of my fantasy. The yard represents grand potential for a creative undertaking. We can continue to tier and plant and develop a fantasy world where my son can eventually run about and enact all sorts of scenarios. It represents an imagination wonderland. Of course, we have to first ensure that our neighbors brother stops camping out on our property where we can’t see him. Yes, you read that correctly? Did I mention we have a man that tried to develop a base camp high up on our property? If only he had gardening skills and could serve as a plumsauce fairy.
And for some reason, I have Morrissey songs running through my brain.
Inspired in part by the Daily Prompt of Looking out my Back Door