Monday, May 25, 2009

Camera Obscura

I was taking pictures of the garden tonight (because I happen like having 4,327 pictures of the same garden slowing iPhoto to a crawl) and trying to block out the houses across the street while at the same time get a picture of my cool new driftwood arbor. I like this arbor and I really like the fact that I built it with my very own hands, even if it did cause my 80 year old neighbour to come tottering across the lawn to ask if he could do the drilling (apparently I looked "unsteady"). Even if it did cause Richard to cackle on the front doorstep, while eating his lunch, and ask me if I needed help. Then hover behind the screen door where he thought I couldn't see him, worrying about the shocking treatment his drill and its bits were getting (turned out I had a concrete drill bit and didn't know it - the HORROR of it all). Even if my other neighbour did come over the next day while I was planting some cucumbers and scarlet runners at its base, to tell me that he had some "funky bits" to hang from it if I wanted (?). And punctuate his remark with a cavalier laugh.

The nerve of some people.

We can't all be handy. Some of us have to be lower on the Handy Person Bell Curve than others. And I, I bear my inability to build sturdy things like arbors and trellises (or is that trelli?) like a true Jane Austen heroine. My creations may not endure, but I am stoic. Philosophical, even.

Well, until things blow down. Or break. Then I resort to less noble behaviours.

Not that I'm going to get into that here.

Anyhow, all this posturing and crouching and leaning to exclude the less than aesthetic visions opposite reminded me of the time an acquaintance came to visit. She must have seen this blog at some point, because the first thing she said to me was "Uh, this is your garden? The same one I saw pictures of?" I wish I had Sound-O-Vision for this remark, because it was garlanded, nay, festooned with surprise. There was disbelief. A touch of shock. And a smidgen of confusion. She obviously thought she had the wrong place.

But really, does anyone thing I'm going to show pictures like this?
My messy hoses? The newly shorn nectarine, sitting nakedly against the wall? My grubby potting bench, built from scrap wood in California and dragged all the way up here to BC because I had a sentimental attachment to it? Oh boy, reading that makes me realize what a dingbat I am (note to self: don't mention how you brought your compost over on the ferry when you moved here).





I'd like to say I'm an amazingly gifted photographer, but then that would bring us back to my yard not really looking like this, wouldn't it? So let's just say that I am a selective photographer. Why show views of ugly stucco boxes houses like the one I live in when I could show pictures like this (minus the houses lurking just inches away from here).











Here's another shot. Richard says that I live in a little world of make-believe and sometimes I have to agree with him. This is way better than what you aren't seeing: cars parked on the road and more stucco boxes.

(sheila waves her smelling salts under everyone's nose)

There, there, this is so much better, now, isn't it?

7 comments:

Rebecca said...

I sure hope you turned down the offer of the display of your neighbour's funky bits.

I completely understand about moving compost. I had a moving company move my worm composter (full of partially digested, ripe-smelling compost). From Vancouver to Vancouver Island, coincidentally. Compost is valuable. There's no way it should be left behind for someone who may not appreciate it the way you do.

Your garden looks absolutely lovely, by the way.

Beck said...

I think that it is ladylike to not be handy. I am very, very ladylike.

Your yard looks beautiful! Mine looks like a pile of toys and weeds.

Samantha said...

Oh Sheila, I love that trellis! It's gorgeous and I am most impressed that you built it yourself! Pooh pooh to all your neighbours, you have inspired me!

I love the rocks throughout your garden as well. My husband has been saving the rocks he finds in our yard for some sort of project that he may never get to, so I think I'll use some of them like you have.

p.s. I would find it hard to leave my compost too. I was planting the other day and admiring the beautiful dirt that was created from my compost. That stuff is like gold (but more valuable)

sheila said...

Rebecca, I have to confess that I am slightly curious as to what a "funky bit" might be. And yes! to the compost. Compost is lovely. I might make a bumper sticker saying something along those lines, come to think of it.

Beck, being ladylike is highly underrated, isn't it? I just wish I was too ladylike for the housework. Doing laundry is beginning to really bore me. Is it possible to be too ladylike for housework?

Samantha, I LOVE my rocks. They are getting a little swamped by the greenery right now, though. I'm noticing that I must have been in a spotted rock phase last summer, because all the rocks have spots on them. But it's fun having them stacked up everywhere. I vote you use your DHs rocks. Then send pictures. Maybe our rocks can be pen pals?

Rebecca said...

You could also make another bumper sticker while you're at it. Something like...

"Just Say No to Funky Bits"

Or something...

(that actually sounds a wee bit rude)

sheila said...

Or: Keep Those Funky Bits Hidden!

It does sound rude, though, doesn't it? No matter how we wrap it. A funky bit. Whatever was he thinking?

Rebecca said...

Or "Keep Your Funky Bits to Yourself"

Clearly, he wasn't.