My Garden

I have a garden. This evening after downloading photos of this garden on a fall day, I am ever more happy that I can say, "I have a garden." I don't take the best care of my garden. Most of the time, a bit of pruning and clearing and straightening is in order. But today, it was beautiful just the way it is, in enveloping November golden light.
I moved into this house with its garden in 1993, so it's been awhile. But I've never stop saying to myself with joy, "I have a house. I have a garden." I remember coming home from work several years ago and as I walked from the driveway toward the front door, I'd often feel a surge of happiness and say to myself, "This is my house and this is my garden."
The first time I ever saw this house, my realtor couldn't get the lock box on the front door to open. So as he fiddled with it, I walked around toward the back of the house and that is when I saw the garden.
There are big trees and concrete terraces and steps leading down into the ravine. I was enchanted and thought to myself, "If I can do something with the house, then I'll buy this property." It was the garden that got to me right away. Turns out, I could indeed to something with the house. I made a home. And then I made a screen porch and a studio. I love it all.
And now, I often share this house and garden with that man who paints and made skull pots and who is pretty much fun to be with, because he and I see a lot of things alike.