Sunshine Coming Through

Two-and-a-half years ago we moved into this early-twentieth century cottage on a dead-end street in a small Louisiana town. During those two years, the lot directly across from our house has been for sale. It was covered with bamboo, pine trees, a few hardwoods, and a tangle of brush, adding to the privacy of our own place. This week, the bamboo came down, and this morning, two men are taking down the trees, one of them in charge of debris and the other climbing 70 feet or more up the pines to top them out. Suddenly, our front porch and the flower beds around it have more sunshine than they have had in years.

When we moved here, we immediately began adding flower and herb beds to the back yard, where we have a lot more space, and I relegated the front flower beds to future plans: those were very shady beds, and I wanted to think long about what plants would best add color to the shady areas. Now I'm dealing with partial shade and more afternoon sun. One person's decision has affected my gardening plans. And that's okay. We are all interconnected. I have no control over what my neighbor does with his once-shady and impenetrable lot (though the town does place some restrictions on tree removal and a lot of restrictions on house-building in this historical neighborhood). What I do have control over is how I respond. Let the sunshine through. I am already thinking of appropriate plants.

Meanwhile, the House has voted to give furloughed government workers back pay, an action good for the short run for those of us dependent on those paychecks--a little sunshine for the moment--but for the long run (a continuing struggling economy) still stormy weather ahead.

Our front yard in the spring (2013), with bamboo across the street; all that bamboo is gone now. Our azaleas will still help screen the front yard.