For Lack of a Better World

I spent the afternoon at my mother’s home, enjoying cool temperatures and a chorus of late-day birdsong. The back yard of my mother’s home has a small patch of conventional lawn but the majority of it is naturally occurring growth that grows in unmistakeable harmony.

The half of the yard furthest back from the residence hardly even resembles a traditional American yard. Instead it is left to grow on its own and far more resembles something out of a fairytale with all manner of textures and colors, depth and layers.

With spring in full effect, everything in her backyard garden is either budding, blossoming, or already in bloom. There are native flowering plants — some which many might consider weeds — crawling vines, clover, and several species of trees.

The property tapers off slightly toward the back and visitors standing in this area find themselves in an atrium of green with short grasses on the ground, vines and bushes creating a panorama of partitions and curtains, and treetops providing a canopy that will only become fuller as warm weather persists.

In all my years living in this house I vaguely recall the property being so spacious. There is so much more land than I remember there being. And some trees have fallen, died, or been removed, so the topography has changed over the years.

Arguably my favorite specimen in the garden is the Japanese maple tree that sits squarely in the center of the space creating a focal point that can be seen from nearly any position in the yard. It’s leaves are a deep wine red, the shade of which changes based on the sunlight.

If you stand underneath the tree, which reaches a height of perhaps six or seven meters, the small, intricate leaves create a blood red canopy above you that shifts in the breeze. The sides of the tree are low enough for most anyone to reach out and touch. Taking a handful of the soft leaves reveals a rich burgundy.

I had seen this tree and a couple of occasions by now but it wasn’t until today that I found it peculiar to see so much red when everything else was a shade of green or the color of a flower. Once I’d become aware of the tree though I found myself slightly obsessed. The color of this tree seemed like it belonged in an autumnal color palette, which made it stand out all the more.

The garden, being only moderately tended to and full of naturally occurring plant life is home to naturally occurring fauna as well. Finches, cardinals, and other birds could be heard singing throughout afternoon. Bumble bees and wasps moved about. Squirrels scurried from treetop to treetop, avoiding the garden floor now that Luna and Taco were present. Mother had already seen a snake or two this year as well as deer moving through the yard.

Perhaps my mother’s yard wasn’t always the enchanting garden it is today. Or maybe the challenges of life that I faced while I lived in this house in my youth prevented me from enjoying this space and what it had to offer. Whatever the case, I’m glad I’m able to appreciate this space for what it has become — a sanctuary for nature and a refuge from civilization.