We came to NJ from the (not so) mean streets of Brooklyn. We came in search of freedom - freedom from the opression of no parking, the horror of gridlock, the terror of having a bus stop under your bedroom window, the humiliation of having to wait to walk, and the hardship of having only two grocery stores within a mile of our door - and neither of them was "Super" - dare we dream of "Mega"
We were pioneers - we skipped Staten Island. We settled directly into NJ. Two bridges were crossed.
I was almost 50 before I owned a home. And man was I excited. The number one attraction for me was nature - space for nature to thrive, the freedom for me to appreciate and nurture it.
Like so many (Brooklyn male) pioneers before him my son had other ideas. He had visions of giant driveways, space for big-ass trucks (he got one!) and the freedom to plant asphalt and concrete.
Why have trees when you could have free-standing basketball hoops!? Why waste a summer day mowing when gravel comes in such natural colors!?
One of the battles I lost was covering up the grass in front of the house. Not the lawn! I protected that, but the little patch between the walk and the front door - I came home one evening to find it turned into a (not so) lovely rock garden. (it only qualifies as a garden because the bushes were allowed to stay) I was horrified and furious until ...
Rising from the ashes (well - the gravel) was the tiniest of green stalks. My heart and soul was filled with the victory of nature over Brooklyn. I tended, I trellised, I protected my stalk in a manner that would make the Jolly Green Giant proud. And ...
She thrives. She grows. She reveals her tiny buds. She reaches toward the sky - ignoring the phone lines that obscure her view. And ...
She Blooms Baby Blooms!
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