gardening, women

My garden has a mullet

JOY journal

This is partly the fault of the engineers who laid out this neighborhood a century ago. They made the street jog a half block to the north right at the corner where our house sits. Hence, our front yard faces one street and the backyard faces another.

Two front yards. Each with an address at the door. This, of course, creates all sorts of confusion. Many people literally don’t realize it’s one house — just visible from two different angles.

Really different. In spite of me — think the bright yellow pots in the picture, wicker furniture that is lime green and pillows in the full range of oranges — the front looks kind of stately. It’s the oak trees I think. They mean business.

The backyard, however, is all party all the time.

This is where the chipmunk comes in — throwing clods of dirt to the surface if I mistakenly plug one of his tunnel holes with mulch. And the deer — who leap in and graze so often I have moved the tomatoes and strawberries onto the deck. (If they come up there to eat, I’m giving up.)

And the baby rabbit, who shot out of the lilies right in front of my feet three times just yesterday. (I think she likes to see me jump.) And birds with an alarming tendency to swoop close to one’s head. And one dog who likes to dig and then lay flat out on the cool earth.

And a picket fence that is never quite as painted as it should be no matter how much time my husband gives it. And morning glory vines and daisies and climbing roses that do whatever they want, wherever they want.

I have a full household and work. I can manage nothing more mild subdual — which means I, too, am part of the conundrum. But, one weekend, my husband was taking a break from mowing and painting and whatnot and was reading on the deck, tucked out of view.

Two neighbor ladies passed by and made a comment that I have decided to take and run with. “This is such a charming garden,” one lady said. “Overgrown, but charming.”

Mullets weren’t really all that bad. Were they?

Published by JOY journal

A longtime journalist, Nora Edinger also blogs and writes books. Her Christian chick lit and faith-related non-fiction are available on Amazon and on this site. She lives in Appalachia with her family and a goodish puppy named Finn.

23 thoughts on “My garden has a mullet”

    1. We live in the city. So, I don’t mind people. But, it is a really public gardening space. It does get to me now and then — but oddly, it looks much tidier from outside the fence than it does from the inside. 🙂

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  6. Nora, you have the absolute best neighbor! I’m so glad your husband got to overhear her comment. Now you can kick back relax, embrace the mullet, and enjoy the party Miles, the wildlife, and your flowers have going on in the backyard.

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  7. I don’t see/hear passing folk but that sounds about right “overgrown but charming” and at least you don’t have to keep up with the “Jones'”. I do have comments though when people come to see me and look across the driveway at a “rather just hangin’ in there fence” – technically it’s not my fence as I live in a private rental…and somehow my landlord doesn’t see that particular part of the fences as needing repair!

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    1. Ah, fences. And landlords. When we first got married ours did not see any problem with a shower unit that occasionally sprouted a literal mushroom where it rested against the plaster. And, we were too young and in love to really care. 😀

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