Tuesday, September 6, 2016
Those weeds that used to tangle in and out of our back fence are finally starting to reemerge. Most people would bemoan the fact of their perseverance, but not me.
When we first moved in to our house, some said we should get rid of it all. "It's just a ton of weeds back there!" they exclaimed. But to me, those weeds overtook a boring chain link fence and transformed it into an illusion of isolation within a sprawling suburb. It created a "best of both worlds scenario" for our house--close to the hustle and bustle of the city but also a semi-private retreat.
A few months ago, someone new moved into the house we share that fence with. At least I assume the home had new owners since the house had a lot of people coming and going. But the true giveaway was that our once lush weed barrier turned brown overnight and then disintegrated from sight. Now I could see a dog roaming around through the links and a woman trying unsuccessfully to restart her lawn mower. The illusion had unraveled along with those vines.
First I got mad. A great many pictures had been taken in front of my weed backdrop, transferring us from a backyard to some sort of forest retreat. I'm not saying I want to barricade myself off from our neighbors, but it is nice to pretend that we have a little privacy even though we're surrounded by a grid of houses. But I let it go. It seemed silly for our first talk with the new neighbors to be about our disappointment of them getting rid of the weeds. Wade, for the record, was a fan of the clean landscape.
And then yesterday, I smiled. I watched Everly while she stared out the big window into the backyard. I was about to teach her how we don't bang on the glass with puzzle pieces, but my "no" turned quickly into a "no way" as my gaze settled on to the newly formed greenery slowly but surely climbing that back fence. The setting sun had turned the weeds a soft golden color. I guess some things have a way of fighting back.