i love my neighborhood. it earns that
title, neighborhood. most of the houses are
turn of the century to 30's. the houses
wear porches wide enough to be considered a
room. large enough to gather unexpectedly
when you spy neighbors with their coffee
in the morning or wine in the evening.
windows and transoms that can grab a fall
breeze and pull it inside like deep, slow
breath, whipping curtains around like batting eyelashes.
it only makes sense that a neighborhood
filled with homes built back when mother nature
set the thermostat would be
filled with folks of a like mind.
throwing open windows, dining on lawns,
napping on sleeping porches.
even though i have raised beds (i worry
about lead in the soil from 100 years
of paint scraping and sanding)in the back
yard, i decided to be a part of our
community garden. i grew up on a farm
where we grew a lot of what we ate
and it felt really new and novel to me
to ride our bikes to a city lot to grow
broccoli! the kids were more entranced
than they are here at our home garden.
i like looking around at other families
working their plot. i love feeling a part
of something..especially something that
helps make my neighborhood a community and
my community a part of my family.