Useful observations for the not so Sunset magazine crowd
My yard will never be a candidate for Sunset Magazine (Sunset.com). I wouldn’t want it to be that nice. Waxing the yard to such an extent is a crime against actually relaxing out there. Felonious gardening is an infraction against the recuperative power of enjoying what nature provides without much arrogance and interference.
I think I learned minimal gardening from my grandmother … her yard was occasionally overrun by cattle coming through the fences and persistently mauled by deer. Still it was nice out there.
My yard reflects just enough effort to keep Oregon from naturally reclaiming the space we inhabit. After that, sit, shut up and listen to what she has to say.
Table. Round ones roll on their edge to move them around. If your table is too fancy to abuse, you shouldn’t have it outside. Metal, rusted and round. Perfect.
Bench. A beam I wrestled off of the beach and some cinder blocks I found in an overgrown corner. I later learned that foraging wood off of Oregon beaches is technically illegal, but everyone seems to collect driftwood. So yeah, call me an outlaw. The work of hauling it home involved lifting and dragging that bulky piece a mile up the beach and then up and over the terminal dune. Which is a good memory. Sort of? But is far beyond what I am capable of a decade plus later. Waterlogged, I bet it weighed 150 lbs. Nowadays I move it one end at a time to trim below it a couple times a year.
Chairs. Franken-chairs, actually. These are remade from iron skeletons that were companions to the ancient rusty table. Their seats, have been long since rotted and removed. The “new” seats are a mash-up of spare materials. Scraps and pieces. Attachments are conduit hangers found in a bag in the shop. When I sit on them, I remember the projects I managed to accomplish in the past. A deck, some fencing … parts of a palate that I can’t remember what came on … Even the screws I used to assemble our franken-chairs are previously used and salvaged from something disassembled. Reclamation and reuse is an ethic I learned very early in life observing uncles and farm/ranch friends of our family. Two more chairs await assembly, but two is all we need.
Bricks. Salvaged, of course. From an old lady in Coquille who wanted the bees living in them removed. We made a big deal of consulting an Apiarist (Bee Keeper, if you don’t know the term.) They were wild Italian Honey bees. Tiny nest, just a few individuals. Evidently, disturbing them isn’t a big deal. But we felt guilty anyway.
Firepit. Sort of just stacked there to cover a pampas grass we had removed. We bought the blocks locally, purpose built. Primarily so they’d be heat resistant. But also because, having a “Warming Fire” is legal in an area where “Open Burning” is prohibited. It seemed that having a specific engineered fire structure would infer the former. Whereas the latter would risk fines. Based on the photo, I’ll leave that actual issue of fire-size to the imagination.
Lawn. Naturally occurring whatever-it-is that grows here. Mowed. Assisted with microdoses of weed-n-feed, very occasional weed pulling and just plain lawn care ignorance. It’s Oregon. I’ve learned that interfering with green things here is futile. They just happen. Some species like Himalayan Blackberries can’t actually be eradicated. Turns out, we keep a wild patch just as they are…. those berries are great in breakfast cereal and on pancakes.
What a blessing. Just go sit a spell with coffee. You’ll see.
Narrow Way Cafe 