Welcome to Our Backyard!

It was another fine, misty morning; one of several in a row. But on this particular morning, I wasn't out driving around because I planned to work at home for the day. So I grabbed my camera and walked all around the yard before my work day began. And such delights I found. 

Do you remember the lonely echinacea growing at the back of Gremlin's Meadow, whose picture I posted about two weeks ago? Well, guess what: it isn't lonely anymore! Several more pink friends have joined it. And some fuzzy purple liatris have also come into bloom. The bees and butterflies love them both, as do I.

And in the front yard, the tree row was strung with spider webs. Intricate designs, like fancy beaded necklaces, decorated each and every tree. It gave me a personal sense of accomplishment to see it, because I'm the one who planted those trees. The thought made me feel a kinship, a partnership, with the web weavers: their art display was made possible by my trees. (We work together on this acre; yes, we do.)

I always wanted a yard like this - something very green, with trees and flowers, and butterflies and birds and bunnies. I bought the house myself; at the time, my boyfriend and I were still fiercely independent, and we had some vision that we should EACH buy our own house (we were confirmed bachelors once; yes, we were). And we thought - wouldn't it be ideal if we owned separate properties that were somehow side by side?

"Easy living in the country," the ad promised, for the house I eventually bought. (Yeah, right! Easy living, my foot!) But we had no idea, of course, how much responsibility would come with home ownership. And how there would be times that it would almost break us, owning just one home between the two of us.

There are things we have learned since then. How could I ever have thought that I could take care of this place alone (especially while working full-time)? And why on earth would we want separate houses? Which one would we sleep at? Or would we both sleep alone, and just visit and have tea and crumpets and polite conversation on sunny afternoons?

So I married that man, and I moved him in. And now we do yard work as a team. And I am working on learning to say ours instead of mine.

We sit together wrapped in quiet delight on the front porch, as the hummingbirds, those green jewels of our yard, sip at every bright flower.

We sit on our lawn chairs, watching at first darkness as the fireflies rise from the damp grass, their lights flashing messages of cool desire.

We stand down low in the yard where we can watch the moon rise and sail through the trees. Through OUR trees, some of which I have planted.

And most importantly, love lives here. It lives between us (and among us, as it includes that Tabbycat whom you have seen so often on these pages). It bubbles up out of us and spills into the things we do. Love changes everything. It turns a simple acre into something like a tiny piece of paradise. It turns a simple house into a home.

The soundtrack: Bonnie Raitt, with Feels Like Home.

Bonus link: a prior blip with a very similar name, featuring a photo of our backyard in autumn.