Sometimes the thing you want brings you what you really need.
I wrote a while back about finally acquiring a pair of long-desired Adirondack chairs. I’ve always liked the look of them—the lines, the solid weight of them, the way they seem to settle perfectly into whatever location they happen to be placed. And perhaps there was some vague association with “the good life” mixed in there, too. However, I realize now that they’ve brought me a lot more than a couple of great-looking chairs to sit in.
The house I’m renting has a smallish back yard that backs onto a wooded area. There’s a little patio, perfect for the wrought iron bistro set I brought from my Richmond house. However, the previous tenant had let the patio area get overgrown and junky, so it was a job just getting the patio area to a minimal state of neatness. Next to the patio were the super cans for trash and recycling, plus a compost bin and some other junk the previous tenant had left behind—not a lovely sight. Also, other than an azalea bush and a pitiful-looking Rose of Sharon that had volunteered next to the super cans, it was pretty much all weeds and dirt. Not very appealing.
I got rid of the weeds and brought in a birdbath and several potted plants not long after I moved in, but the work required to truly transform the place was more than I could face at the time, so I decided instead to concentrate my gardening efforts in the front yard, which I would see every day coming and going and could enjoy from my wicker chair on the cozy front porch.
But as much as I’ve enjoyed my little front porch, I’ve continued to long for a private retreat, a place where I can take my coffee and go enjoy the outdoors while still wearing my pajamas, where I can write in my journal or read a book, uninterrupted by neighbors stopping to chat, where I can hang out with my dog and not worry about whether she might (as dogs will do) take off across the busy street in pursuit of squirrels.
Enter the famed Adirondack chairs. Continue reading