SheRetired: That Garden in the Foothills

“This ought to give you something for your stinkin’ blog,” Betty Jo commented as we enjoyed a stroll through our friend’s scenic foothill garden.

I tell myself Betty Jo (her real name) lives in a slightly remote town twenty minutes from a civilization with a Raley’s supermarket and has no choice except to use dial-up as an Internet connection. In my eyes, dial-up is the same as living in a cave or a remote island. I could picture her spending her time knitting, dyeing wool, spinning or weaving instead of waiting on text and photographs to appear, so I suppose viewing my blog does not come close to making Betty Jo’s Top Ten. From personal experience, I know living in a small town forces you to find ways to entertain yourself.

I tactfully blew off Betty Jo’s comment by watching an overweight pollywog come to the murky surface of the pond. As it disappeared, I thought about my own backyard. My neglected backyard in suburbia came as the result of my husband and me putting most of our efforts into our front yard.

But isn’t that what everyone does? People can see your front yard 24/7, but unless they plan on breaking in and stealing whatever valuables you have, people are normally invited into your backyard. The focus is on the front yard, and by the time you get to working on the backyard, there is usually no time, energy or motivation to get it in order. At our home, our front yard is split into a “his and hers” deal. My husband likes the look of a green lawn, but I don’t want to bother with wasting water or the trouble of mowing and fertilizing to get that certain healthy shade of green. My side of the front yard is a slash below the definition of carefree. I have roses, vegetables grown pots and a carpet of bark.

Let me add, in these so-called highly desperate times, we tend to spend cash on other things. These bare bones basics include groceries and utility bills. Gone are the days of shopping sprees, mindlessly buying up luxury items and anything that screams, “extra”.

But I consider myself lucky. I remember a time when gas was 77 cents per gallon, and that included a person who whistled as he washed your windshield, checked the air in your tires, and asked you to pop the hood so he check the oil. I liked receiving the freebies that came with all the promotions for buying gas, but I did miss the promotion giving away dolls dressed to represent every foreign country. Not that I played with dolls.

For the price of gas, I can still afford to fill my tank these days and visit places.

My father was a farmer, and although I inherited his green thumb, I will always admire anyone who can work magic with flowers, plants, shrubs, and trees. For a person who grew up on a farm, I was taught not to waste land. Depending on the soil, you could grow crops or raise animals, and it was usually both.

My parents exposed me to international travel when I was 10. I inherited what I call, my father’s “traveling shoes”. If I ever scrape up the money, I will spend it on travel and never regret buying a plane or cruise ship ticket. I will not complain how much it costs for gas and lodging when taking road trips. From an early age, I vowed to always have a good time in unfamiliar destinations.

The memories acquired from traveling can’t be taken away from you. At the same time, what makes a journey so special is coming home. But if you experienced this type of peace and tranquility in the gardens surrounding your home, would you ever want to leave in the first place?

So this is why I enjoy home gardens. Not mine, but the ones belonging to and lovingly tended by other people. The practical part of me likes vegetable gardens and fruit trees because harvesting and eating your own crops is just plain rewarding. I like the look of freshly cut flowers in my home, but I tend to leave them in the vases long after their suggested expiration date because dead flowers don’t bother me. If you do it right, your garden becomes a feast for anyone’s eyes. Who knows? Your efforts may motivate someone like me to do something with my ¼ acre of weeds.

Uh , it was a good try while it lasted.

California has been in a perpetual state of drought for years. If you don’t have a big, lush lawn because you are trying to save water, I applaud you. Inform me that you experiment with your landscaping and brag that you don’t have the same oleanders and the common familiar “filler” plants seen on the freeways and outside the banks, big box stores and strip mall parking lots. Tell me you’ve got a pond supporting a natural habitat with a balance of koi, minnows and overweight pollywogs.