For the past six years, part of my back yard has been separated from the lwn by a line of branches and rotting yard timbers, and allowed to do whatever it wants to do. I call that part of my yard the Vine Street Nature Conservancy so well meaning libras will throw money in my direction and help me buy food for myself and co-conservators Thelonius Dog and Slick Richard, both black males, both Labradors. Neither of them plays the blues, and that suits me just fine, thankyouverymuch.
While you’re picking your head and scratching your nose (or vice-versa) I hasten to note that the next pictures here are thumbnailed. Click on them for a larger view – but only if you want to; I’m fine either way.
For the first several years I lived here, no grass grew back there. It was just scorched earth. William Tecumseh Sherman would have approved. The large tree nearby to the west screened the sun, so that it was all in shade. I decided to put some wood chips into that acreage and to deposit fall leaves, fallen branches, fallen arches, whatever fell; that’s where it went.
Then I noticed greenery popping through the brown of it all. Weeds to be sure, but green, glorious green. When a Springfield Health Inspector came in response to a neighbor’s complaint. I’m the Ragged Delinquent in these parts, and they all want me to get a job and move away. (HEY, buster. Get in LINE!) My only concession to civility is not having a 1953 Buick Roadmaster on cement blocks in the middle of my front yard, but do they appreciate that? Oh noooooo! But I digress . . . .
A friend from Atlanta, Illinois gave me the start of a pine tree about five years ago. I called it Jennifer Pine in honor of his cousin who lived in Kankakee. It lasted five days before Thelonius and Slick had stripped it of its branches. But heck it was only 15 inches tall. I thought I had seen the last of the new-growth trees until last fall as I was dumping leaves and arches in the back back near the fence. I spied the sprout of a most deciduously Maple tree with Maple heaves, which effectively confirmed my iniitial suspicion, I named her Marla and she was turning with the season. In the clutter of the otther greenery, Slick and Thelonious didn’t pay attention to her. I have a hunch the canines had used Jennifer Pine as a breath-freshening therapeutic. If you ever caught a whiff of their breath you’d understand why. Maples don’t have that allure.
As spring set in this year, I was deslighted to see Marla doing well. And she has a few relative Maples cetainly putting down roots nearby! I will thin the numbers as fall approaches, but in the meantime, I am enjoying the show.
The Conservancy is thriving. The variety far exceeds what I would have planted on my own, Witnessing the evolution (intelligent design, if you prefer) is like watching television, only a mite slower, and on most days, more fun.
Pictured above is a small part of the back lawn which I’ve also set aside as a natural element, separated from the allocated VSNC grounds by 17 feet, or 95 paces if you’re a Labrador. To the left of it is a pathway hacked out of the grass by Slick and Thelonius. I call it Poet’s Trace.
Look for more news of Vine Street Nature Conservancy as things happen. Thanks for reading this much.
Live long . . . . . and proper.
