Urbane Wildlife

Urbane:  Polished: showing a high degree of refinement and the assurance that comes from wide social experience.

Last week our dog Ralph was especially edgy.  In the yard, he would dart to and fro, barking at what we thought were imaginary intruders. The pup likes to defend his turf--and usually has a reason, not always obvious or visible to the human eye.  Given the eternal ice and snow of the season, edginess isn't limited to the canine, so no one thought it a big deal. 

One large oak in the yard serves as a raccoon condominium, meaning the sniff-fest wasn't without basis. Ralph isn't allowed in the yard at dusk and dawn as these nocturnal creatures head out in search of breakfast, or crawl in after a night of festivity.  It's not a good idea to get between momma and her sleep, so we are all careful to steer clear during egress and ingress.  Sometimes at dusk the hollow in the tree resembles a  clown car pulling into the circus as the masked critters pour out one by one.

Gardeners of "The Court" -- The Cycle of Life in the Garden

Garden as therapy

Membership in the unofficial garden club on the "Court" or cul de sac where we live is as precious as any professional affiliation.  A lawyer by trade, I am paid to "counsel," yet I often quietly marvel at the willingness of folks who pay me to listen, when what they really need is advice.  Not so with gardeners. 

Those bemused neighbors who track my burgeoning interest in plant cultivation, in addition to a helpful tip or two, have introduced me to the unique breed known as "gardeners."  Gardeners see beauty growing in places where others never bother to look--the crack of a sidewalk, beneath a crumbling overpass, or along a storm drain.  They understand the cycle of life. 

On my street, and I suspect most others, gardens serve as therapeutic incentives to keep going, instilling some normalcy when times get tough.  These cultivated patches of soil, window boxes, even containers on high-rise balconies reflect joys and sorrows, the good days, and those which are horribly bad. 

Planting Windowboxes -- No pane, no gain!

It began with one.  Soon they grew--and multiplied. A bit of a theme for gardeners.  Windowboxes.  Small, contained minigardens, at your windowsill.  The eye is drawn outwards from in, and homewards for the inbound. 

Ours don't retire in the winter.  Before the soil freezes, I fill them with an eclectic (and cheap) collection of twigs, branches, figures and a few dozen varied sprigs from the local dollar shop.  If you haven't looked lately, these are not your momma's artificial flowers. Once frosted with snow, they create a beautiful celebration of winter.  The full boxes add depth and character and send a message to those who approach that the place is loved and cared for.