Taking Care of Things

Plowing the east forty, Ballard,
in anticipation of growing edibles.

The lord of a manor ought to take care of the estate. It's an idea that has evolved in me since the first house I bought, and even earlier. I would like to think it is not a possessive or a selfish thing, but a matter of stewardship.

Gardening, the most popular hobby in Merca, can teach the value of stewardship. Yes, the property is mine in fee simple. Yes, I can do with it whatever I want, land use regulations permitting. But working with living nature teaches humility. I am only a small part of the whole. As Shari often reminds me, the land talks to you over time and tells you what it wants.

Parking out the front acreage, Terra Bella.

Living at 5224 in the U-District, we got the idea of digging up the small, unkempt, weed-infested, sad excuse of a backyard lawn and planting a vegetable garden. Mind you, in those heady days of juvenile adolescence, the idea of taking care of anything took a distant back seat to being cool and having fun. Four boys fresh out of high school quickly ran that poor house into increasing states of dilapidation. But we did have our moments of clean-up and show-off. The vegetable garden was one such example. That first year we had a bumper crop of tomatoes the likes of which I have never since equaled.  Then, after that first summer of planting, distracted by the need to to be cool and having fun (a need exhausted only by growing up), we largely abandoned farming and the backyard restored itself to increasing states of dilapidation.

The front acreage, Terra Bella.

The Ballard house was my first possession in fee simple. It, like the U-District house, had a postage stamp sized lot with a backyard that had a strip suitable for growing edibles. Memories of that one successful tomato harvest propelled me to rent a cultivator and plant vegetables. I forget what we planted. Zucchini, tomato, green beans and the like, I suppose. Previous owners had graced the 1912 craftsman house with pretty ornamentals that bloomed over spring and summer: huge lilac bushes, honeysuckle, penstemon, and an apple tree. We planted annuals in hanging baskets on the front porch and in the half whiskey barrel on the back deck.

My move to Whidbey Island was cataclysmic. I had been a city boy. Shari was the Island Girl from the dense greenery of Puget Sound countryside, living on sheep farms, wooded acreage, and in island villages. She was already in tune with creating, maintaining, and savoring gardens: vegetable, fruit and floral.

Shari's garden, Terra Bella.

I became the lord of a much larger manor. My palette was five acres, later increased to ten. Most of it was forested with large, but not ancient, cedars with occasional Doug firs and hemlock. The land had been logged and clear-cut several times previously, but we inherited some pretty large trees together with lots of alder, blackberries and nettles. Stuff grows quickly in Lower Alaska. Some two acres around the house had been cleared and served as a lawn.

We enjoyed eight years on the aptly named Terra Bella Lane. Working the land became a full time pastime in addition to reworking the entire 4,200 square foot, eighteen room, three level house. We purchased Scotty the tractor mower to cut fields of grass, weeds and nettle fields. Over time, some three acres were parked out. We took out a shabby truck garden and rabbit cages that framed the grand driveway entrance. With the help of Randy, his son, their bulldozer, backhoe and lowboy, the hillside was terraced, the back acres partially cleared, and its swamp dug out to create a pond. On the terraced land, we deer-fenced about a tenth of an acre, used landscaping blocks and railroad ties to build raised gardens where Shari planted, grew and maintained everything from strawberries to espaliered apple trees and even grape vines. On the second five acres, I spent many an active summer day clearing paths to access, define, and enjoy our domain.

The pond in back, Terra Bella.

The second owner later, we had a chance to visit our old domain. Shari's and my purchaser was a trust fund baby with motorcycles, a civilian AK47, and houses in California and Mexico. He had neglected the garden and the park setting.  Everything reverted to an overgrown state, then he sold the property at a substantial loss. There was some hope. The young families that were living there when we visited were beginning to reclaim and rework the garden.

We moved to San Simeon where our little acre of the Sonoran Desert has become our domain. Thanks to the desert climate, we get plenty of opportunity to sit outside and contemplate nature. In my time as a lord of a manor, I have noticed how infinitely enjoyable it is to sit outside and watch things grow, listen to bird calls, and watch bugs fly and lizards do push-ups. Sitting inside for the same amount of time, even inside an attractively appointed space, is just staring at walls.

Ever wonder why we long to look out windows, and rarely in?
Looking out front, Terra Bella.

The illustrative story that comes to mind is from Terra Bella. Not long after we bought and fixed up our five acres on Whidbey, we invited my family for a day visit. It turned out to be one of those precious sunny days for which Puget Sound is justly famous. Inside the house, the conversation awkwardly turned to tape recordings. That is, the "same old, same old" subjects of conversation that dominated family dialogue for decades. It occurred to me to move the party outside onto the lawn. So we laid out picnic blankets on the parked-out acreage in front. People sat and relaxed. The need diminished to have to say something to keep a conversation going. Silence was not awkward. It was natural. And if someone did say something, it was relevant.

Gardening is working to evoke nature's beauty and abundance. For good reason, it is the most popular hobby. Gardening is a metaphor for everything in life. I wonder why we as a society have not learned good stewardship from gardening.

My idea of a nice living room.