March Men’s Room
Backyard bliss
Craig Snow is one of three men in WILMA’s house. He’s usually selling advertising, but we let him take his maiden voyage into writing. We’ve also eaten cheeseburgers in his backyard. He’s legit.
When is the last time you had a throw-down argument with your significant other in your backyard? Relationship squabbles typically take place in the bedroom or in the den … not in the backyard. Could be we don’t want to air our dirty laundry?
With the exception of a spat over where the tiki torches should go or how much hot sauce is used on the wings, I just don’t remember too much scrappin’ goin’ on in my backyard.
I do have fond memories of crawfish boils, kind neighbors, a cute little boy chasing his dog, company parties, first pitches, first catches, impromptu rap masterpieces, cocktails, nights I don’t remember well, forts, snowmen, tomato-thieving squirrels, culinary perfection and fiasco, conversations lasting til sunup, and laughter. All in my backyard.
Every house I have rented or owned was chosen in large part because of what was behind the house.
I remember hopping a brick wall to see the backyard of my first rental in 1987 before I had been in the house. “Stepped brick terraces – oh, oh, we’ve got to get this one!”
Over the years, it could have been the 100-year-old giant pin oak tree, the 35-foot tall bamboo, the rambling antique brick walkways, or the shed building with the workshop that sucked me in.
The swimming pool was the big hook initially at our last house. I had no idea the work and the money that can go into a hole in the ground! Belly flop.
That brings me to the projects. Some of them are simple and straightforward, and you can knock them out quickly for immediate gratification. “Those lights look great in the trees, sweetie!”
Then you have the more substantial undertakings that go on and on and on. “Honey, is it really important that the waterfall be 6-feet tall?”
The best backyard has lots of trees, if it’s up to me. I’d rather be blowing leaves than running the vacuum.
They have at least one big dog running around sniffing and digging and making some kind of mess. I’d rather be scooping dog poop than cleaning the toilets.
They need a fence around it but not a castle wall – got to get to know the neighbors.
And the best times are when the whole yard doubles as a dining room.
Give me my four-burner gas grill over that highfalutin stainless steel refrigerator in that fancy kitchen. My greatest meals have consistently been created on a grill or outdoor cooker, not in the oven.
Crawfish boils with taters, corn on the cob, and sausage. Perfect, rare filets. Deep-fried turkeys. Medium rare cheeseburgers for fifty hungry friends. Crispy marshmallows and s’mores around a fire pit.
Friends. Family. Fun. Turns out the backyard is my choice for creating memories with my peeps.
I’m a better man when I’ve got more space, maybe because I’m a man of girth. My big voice can be a bit much in a small room, but is much easier on the ears when it can echo into the trees.
Just seems Mother Nature is more forgiving of big old me!
To view more of illustrator Mark Weber’s work, go to www.markweberart.blogspot.com.
