Ten days after I left on a road trip, my yard exploded. This is just one reason why I love it up here.
The day I left, the sprinkler folks came out and set up my yard for the regular watering which is critically necessary during our increasingly hotter summer months up here in Eugene. Last year we had a stunning weekend in June of 112 degrees, which scorched not only my yard but millions of beautiful trees along the coastline. For all those climate deniers, good luck, Sparky. It's been here a while, and as my southern neighbors in California are likely to find out very soon, lawns need to go the way of the dodo bird if you want drinking water.
But I digress.
Up here we've had a nice, wet spring, which has led to the kind of yard that I signed up for. And of course all the weeds that go with it. For those who can appreciate a year-round blooming yard even this far north, here's a quick walk through of part of what's happening at my house. All photos are mine:
Today it's raining, I'm about to head downstairs to work out for a bit, and I have a LOT on my plate. It's first-round packing day for Africa, a process which takes several rounds as I pack way too much, then have to cut way back. Days like this often give way to late afternoon sun shining through the rain like so many diamonds.
Suddenly all my Japanese maples have leafed out and seemingly overnight I have shade, which the birds love as much as I do.
Every time I deal with the reality of how much work this house is to manage, I am also gobsmacked by the beauty that surrounds me. That makes a decision to let it go very difficult, but there may come a time, as happens to us all as life invites us to move along, move along little dogie.
These things only happen with water. Water is the new platinum, and anyone not realizing that it's the key to our future isn't paying attention. I am immensely grateful for the rain, the dew, the showers which make this yard possible. As much as I am well aware that within my lifetime, I may see yards like this change to cactus as they most certainly need to do in the increasingly drier parts of the world.
For now, however, I celebrate this:
and the fact that for now, I have water. Many of us still do. And I hope we are mindful about conserving it, which my sprinkler guy and I discussed rather extensively. For each time I drink a full glass as part of my daily eight to ten, I remember the children in Africa I saw drinking water out of a foul puddle in the middle of the road.
You can never un-see such things. They change you, and your relationship to our relative bounty, forever and ever. That is why I travel. I learn to appreciate, give intense thanks, and continue to be willing to give up things that I love in order to continue to grow.
For now, this is what's growing at my house. I hope they give you the same joy they give me.
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