Oasis

When Josh and I were first married, we lived in the upstairs of a brick oven duplex in the middle of Rockford.Our landlord, Mass, mowed the modest lawn every week or so, and there wasn't really room for a garden. Most of our time outdoors was spent taking walks around the neighborhood in the evenings. It was a respite from the stifling heat of upstairs (our time there remains the only time I can remember showering in cool water on a regular basis), a chance to have those lovely long talks that come in the beginning of marriage, and an escape from the consistent, loud, and resounding shouts our neighbor made for her son every night around 8:00. (We knew almost nothing of them, but we sure as heck knew the little boy next door was named 'BRAAAAAAAANDON!!!!) I loved our duplex, and the memories of our time there are so sweet, but I remember longing for the time when we'd have a yard we could escape to, instead of the cracked sidewalks and busy roads around us.

A couple years later, we moved to Peoria and rented a house from Josh's cousin. It was pretty tiny, and pretty outdated, but we made it work. It had a yard, at least, and a space in the back for a little garden. The yard was mostly clover and riddled with hidden holes, which made for some interesting mowing experiences. Our garden gave us some tomatoes and peppers, as well as some volunteer tomatillos, and so we spent more time outside. But we knew it wasn't forever, and we had also been blessed with yet another interesting neighbor. His name was Eric, and when he was sober, he was nice enough. When he wasn't sober, he'd sit out in his truck (not actually driving, mind you, because of that last D.U.I.), and blast metal, punctuated occasionally by a horn honk or string of expletives. One night, after about an hour of this nonsense, Josh called the police. Eric's response was pretty epic, even though he didn't know it had been us. Needless to say, we didn't spend a whole lot of time outside after that.

And now, the dream has finally been realized. We have woods on three sides, and across the street we have Hans and Jo, a retired couple from the Northeast who could not be sweeter if they tried. (Jo is constantly finding little treats for the girls and loves to tell them they are beyootiful.) And it's taken a lot of work, and a lot of time, and money and ideas and frustration and time and time and money and time and work and work and work, but our yard has finally become the oasis I dreamed about in our stuffy duplex and in our tiny home next door to a psychopath. I love to go outside and look at our flowers or see what's ready to be picked out of the garden. And the best part is, there's so much more work to do, and the ideas are still coming and there are new flowers to plant. And we're not going anywhere.

Here are some recent views around the my little oasis: