Sacramentans seem conflicted about the perfect residential landscape. Our preferences range from attempting to control nature with vast lawns and boxwood hedges to creating serene spaces that appear untouched by human hands.
Variations abound, inspired by landscape design choices. Contemporary, modern minimalist, cottage garden, French country, tropical, xeriscape—the menu of artistry and whimsy is abundant.
What nudges us to consider a major renovation, a new look?
July is when we celebrate freedoms. For me, few freedoms are as precious as my freedom of religion.
When I served as an Air Force chaplain, I had many conversations about religious freedom. Few went like the one I had with a deputy commander of my base.
She was passing my office and stuck her head in the door. “Watcha doing, Chaplain?” she asked.
I said, “I’m trying to write a prayer for colonel so-and-so’s retirement ceremony, but I’m not getting far.”
Foraging for drip irrigation repair parts, I glanced at my primitive gardening tools. Idling in a corner of the garage, the old-timers had weathered wooden handles and scarred cutting surfaces. The digging fork had a bent tine, courtesy of tree root vs. steel.
I was reminded of the evolution of garden maintenance. Gardening tools arrived when a human picked up a tree branch and gouged out a planting furrow. Bone, wood and stone tools were simple but effective. Replacement parts ample and free.
Today, preferred tools are cordless and powered by lithium-ion and nickel-cadmium batteries. Mowers, trimmers and leaf blowers are encased in combinations of plastic, fiberglass, metal and composites. They drain kilowatt hours, like the EVs that share many garages.
Recently, I made a conscious effort to smell the roses. My gardening had veered into the fast lane, bypassing the fragrant route.
When I discovered a weed, it had to be removed. A lopsided perennial was promptly shape-pruned. Fallen fruit was a sacrilege, immediately gathered and discarded. No time remained to smell roses and admire all things green and growing.
I realized constant maintenance had become more difficult, more exhausting, more unnecessary. Perhaps it’s not all about aging, but the realization that duties can wait and the planet will not suffer mass extinction. Thus, maturity of thought. Coupled with deliberate inaction.
Surfing Oahu’s Banzai Pipeline or scaling Annapurna’s summit in Nepal are risky. In Sacramento, gardeners chase another perilous pursuit. They attempt to grow plants that confound and defeat even the greatest gardeners.
Like a quart of milk, we purchase these perplexing plants, and, within a short time, they reach their expiration date. Our response is a tortured moan and mounting frustration.
The truth is that some plants are not suited to local growing conditions or are finicky and high maintenance.
In the age of Ozempic and Sono Bello, The Skinny Garden is trendy and unique.
It was always skinny, stretching two football fields along the backside of Sacramento Charter High School in Oak Park. At its skinniest, the ribbon of plants measures 10–12 inches wide and squeezes between a chain-link fence and sidewalk along V Street.
The garden boasts hundreds of perennials, small trees and art. Wood-plank paintings by neighborhood children line the fence, along with decorative framed mirrors and signs to discourage littering and flower picking. Many plants are identified by metal labels, others go unnamed.
