Stacey and her father Lewis were on a romantic, old neighborhood, re-visit, an idea that can work both ways between the old house that has changed too much to the old play buddies who do not remember you.
Not only was I glad to have recognized her but she was on a mission: to thank me for all the years I had let her and her brother Sean play in my "jungle" (the neighborhood kids' nickname for the very informal collection of odd plants growing in my yard.) She remembered hours of playing hide and seek in there, watching the frogs in the pond or marveling at the size of my exotic banana plants. Her new surprise, last night is that while she has grown, those same banana plants seemed to have grown even more and still tower over her.
When we moved to this quiet neighborhood, twenty six years ago, the selling point for me had not been the wire grass that had taken over the front lawn but the little "cul-de-sac" around the corner, on Crepe Myrtle Ct. It had been turned into kids' world. During the day hours, children would play in that street and traffic had to creep in slowly: a vision of childhood in America that barely existed on TV by then. It was the selling point for us.
Once I built up the garden with water ponds, bamboo, banana trees and delicious tomatoes kids could sample any time, some of that flow diverted to "the jungle".
Last night, Stacey reminded me what it had meant for some of them and her "thank you" had more sweetness than any Christmas present. It meant that my intention to share with young and old in the neighborhood had been fully accepted, appreciated and absorbed, justifying all the sweat equity, the mosquito bites and other prices paid.
Right now I regret not having old pictures to post showing the little rascals but part of the deal, at the time, is that I let them be in "their" garden, without my interference.
They are not the only ones: every Spring my kids alert me to "drive by viewers" taking in the sights or snapping pictures and disappearing when they see someone or, as often happen on a weekend when we come home, we find visitors, known and unknown, traipsing about, catching glimpses of plants and flowers they don't see just everywhere anymore.
All are welcome, Spring is too beautiful not to share!
As I was taking Stacey around for another look at the,now, frozen banana trees, I couldn't help but be thankful for having had the opportunity to share with little and not so little kids alike. thankful for living in the middle of paradise (a bare looking one today, but yet!) in an old fashioned neighborhood where neighbors still count more than the model car you drive.
Thanks, Stacey!
Come back any time!
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