Small Home Gazette, Spring 2018
Letter From the Editor: backyard memories
I have been thinking a lot about neighbors…and backyards…and fences.
Growing up in my grandparents’ house in an older part of Faribault, Minnesota, I have fond memories of the welcoming backyards.
There were no fences. My playmates and I were allowed to roam as long as we were respectful. We stuck to our own yards to play badminton or croquet or make a tent from old quilts on a clothesline. But every now and then I wanted to go visiting, and backyards provided the most interesting things to see.
My favorite person to visit was Violet, a single lady who grew up with my father and his siblings. She lived in her parents’ bungalow (which I still dream about), down the block and around the corner. The easiest way to reach her was to cut diagonally across several backyards.
I had to cross through a huge garden planted by two sisters. Both were Miss Vogel to me—I never knew first names. I learned the joys of shucking and eating fresh peas from them. I would sit on the edge of the open back porch, swinging my legs and holding a chipped enamel pan of pea pods. And when I walked through their yard, I was careful to stay on the paths set up neatly between planting beds.
Then there was Mr. Kruse’s lumber pile. He was always building or repairing something. We kids were warned against climbing because of nails. His suggestion that snakes were hiding amongst the wood made me give it a wide berth.
Two of the houses still had an old carriage house out back. These were quaint, and I remember one had a cupola with a horse weathervane. I always wondered if past neighbors parked a horse or two in them before the introduction of cars.
I walked past a grape arbor—my first pergola, actually. That lady made wonderful grape jelly. She also had outrageous orange poppies planted in her backyard. Our yard was rather tame in comparison.
When it was time to come home, Dad would give a piercing whistle—the entire neighborhood knew what that meant. Violet would watch me on the sidewalk until I got to the corner; Dad watched the rest of the way. Or, I could just meander home via the backyards, but it took longer that way due to distractions.
The new fence felt confining at first but Gail and her husband now appreciate the structure and the privacy it gives to their backyard.
Today, fences divide the small backyards in our St. Paul neighborhood. Sometimes the reason for a fence is practical—to confine a dog, for example. Privacy was the reason we recently installed a fence to screen us from a next-door house experiencing ever-changing renters.
It took us several years to decide to install the fence. I think it will serve us well, but I am sad we had to do it.
