One-Tenth of an Acre
Two Shrubs and a New Fence
A childhood memory, a little landscaping, and two rather unruly shrubs that have been doing their own thing for twenty-five years.
When I was a kid, it seemed like just about every house on our street had a pricker bush.
That's what we called them. Pricker bushes. And if you grew up around them, you probably know exactly what I'm talking about.
We played around them, got scratched by them, and generally learned to give them a little respect.
Unless, of course, somebody hit a baseball into one.
Then we'd have to stand there and study the situation. Where was the ball? How far in had it gone? Could somebody reach it from the side? Would a stick help?
It was all about finding the best way to retrieve the baseball while doing the least possible damage.
To ourselves, that is.
The bush wasn't our primary concern.
Anyway, I suppose those childhood experiences must have made an impression, because when we started landscaping around House 173, I knew I wanted a pricker bush.
I didn't have any particular spot in mind. I just wanted one.
Around that time, we'd finished putting up the fence along Kenosha Street, including the arbor and the section that turns back toward the house.
We were pretty pleased with ourselves.
It was a brand-new fence, and it looked terrific. Everything was straight, the pickets were lined up, and the wood had that bright orange color that new pressure-treated lumber sometimes has.
Pristine.
Bright orange, but pristine.
The only thing was, that corner where the fence turned toward the house looked a little too sharp. We'd planted arborvitae out front for much the same reason, and we figured a couple of shrubs would soften this corner nicely, too.
And that's when the pricker bush came to mind.
There may have been another consideration.
We'd just finished building this beautiful fence, and we weren't particularly enthusiastic about every passing dog deciding that the corner post was the perfect place to stop and conduct business.
A pricker bush, we thought, might discourage that sort of thing.
A little devilish, perhaps.
But practical.
We went to our favorite nursery, just a couple of miles from 173, and found a burgundy barberry. Exactly what I had in mind.
Then we spotted a boxwood that was about the right size to go with it.
The colors looked good together, and boxwood is about as forgiving a shrub as you can ask for. It's evergreen, you can trim it into whatever shape suits you, and it generally doesn't make much of a fuss.
So we brought them home and planted them beside the new fence.
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| The new fence, the new shrubs, and a whole lot of growing yet to do. |
The new fence, the new shrubs, and a whole lot of growing yet to do.
Look at those two little things!
The fence was barely finished, and there they were, two of our earliest plantings along that side of the house.
Of course, they didn't stay little.
Over the years, those two rapscallions have pretty much followed their own path.
They get a light trimming most years, and every so often they decide to behave like hormonally enraged teenagers and get completely out of control.
That's when we have to get a little more serious with the pruning shears.
But we don't try to keep them too formal. I like shrubs to look like shrubs, not something somebody carved out of a block of green foam.
A little tidying up here and there, and otherwise we let them do their thing.
And they've done quite well at it.
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| Same corner. Same two shrubs. About twenty-five years later. |
Same corner. Same two shrubs. About twenty-five years later.
Looking at these two pictures together, I find myself looking beyond the bushes.
There's that brand-new fence, the arbor, the house, and the yard as it looked back when we were still figuring out what we wanted to do with everything.
We had so many ideas back then. Things we wanted to build, things we wanted to plant, and all sorts of plans for what House 173 might eventually become.
And we were hopeful. Very hopeful.
Looking back now, we've been incredibly lucky. The house and yard have turned out pretty much the way we dreamed they would, and we certainly have no complaints about how life has treated us in general, either.
It's nice to be able to look at an old photograph and feel that way.
As for the barberry and boxwood, would we do anything differently?
Not one bit.
They softened the corner, gave us the color we wanted, and even helped discourage a few canine visitors from getting too friendly with the fence.
And after all these years, I still have my pricker bush.
Which, when you think about it, was the whole idea in the first place.
Hey, thanks for stopping by - see ya' next time!
