Dispatches From Suburbia, Vol. 2

There is a Metro Park one mile and one half from my front door. I can run to it – I can walk to it – we can bike to it. I can take my kid to one of the F O U R playgrounds there in 2 or 3 actual minutes. I meet my running partner twice a week for an ‘easy’ 4 mile loop. If you live here, you know which park I’m talking about. Don’t stalk meeeeee.

There are six (6) full service grocery stores within a five (5) minute drive.

There are no gardens. Why are there no gardens? Our street has one house that has a bunch of native grasses and quirky yard art. Everyone else (including our yard…mostly) is all yews and boring hardscape. I can’t tell if it’s because 1/3 of the neighbor still lives in the house they bought in the 1950s and why change what ain’t broke or people can’t afford it or no one cares. But every single neighbor who sees us outside at home, comments on our garden. It’s 3 x 8. My cucumbers are a crisp yellow pile, yes, ok, whatever. But my tomatoes are aces.

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