I want to begin my "history" by talking about the very front of Iten's Acres--not the entire front of an acre or so, but the front front. That's why I don't have a title for Chapter 1. Calling it "The Front" could be confusing, and it's certainly mundane. (What writer wants to major in the mundane?) On the other hand, a title like "The Facade" or "The Foyer" would be way too pretentious and border on the inane. "The Entrance" might work, not that that's an attention grabber for the reading public. Any suggestions would be welcome.
When I first made Iten's Acres my home, there were three distinguishing natural landmarks on the property. First, there was a huge conifer to the left of the driveway about half way to its bend. It's about sixty feet tall, at least, and has stunning scarlet pine cones in the spring. The second "natural wonder" was a majestic, gnarled, old maple at the very bend in the driveway. That first autumn revealed it to be a red maple--ooh la la. It is certainly worthy of a photo shoot each and every fall. Wonder number three is a gigantic dead tree on the edge of the pond--its guardian, if not the guardian for the entire acres. Who knew dead trees could be breath-taking?
Sadly, though, when I arrived, the very front front of the property had nothing--blank. Perhaps, I should pause here to major in the mundane and define for you the area I'm historizing. It's basically the first twenty to thirty yards or so of Iten's Acres. The driveway/cowpath dissects it but not evenly. There are about ten yards to the right of the driveway until you reach the boundary line and about fifty or so to the left. And it's a low area. When it rains a lot, it's soggy, like walking on a bog--squish, squish with every step. My entire property is actually a low area. Dennis' property to my west is even worse than mine up front. It floods. When he first moved there, he tried to keep it cut, but soon gave up and just let it grow except for right next to his driveway. By the way, the result of that choice is that he has a lovely "forest" from the road to his secluded home in the middle of his acres. He planted two gorgeous weeping willows at the very front as well. It's quite picturesque. Aaron's property to my right--east--just has a small wet area near the front adjacent to mine. When he built a new house, he put in a real lawn and tried to level off the property. "The best laid plans of mice and men"--it's worse. I have not copied either of my neighbors. My acres aren't as wet as Dennis' and a real lawn seems unnatural--"uncountry"--if I can coin a new word.
So, leaving that long and winding rabbit trail behind us--what did I do with my property? I just planted a row of trees. Exciting, eh? To the right of the driveway I planted a corkscrew willow and a rose of Sharon. The willow loves being in the wet and is thriving. The rose of Sharon will thrive one of these years if I or my neighbor can just stop mowing it down every spring. At least, it's still alive, immune to all attempts to destroy it. To the left of the driveway, I planted three maples, a hawthorn, and a white paper birch. They are all quite small (one maple is twenty feet or so high), and all but the birch are doing well. I picked three different maples for autumn variety, the birch for its bark, and the hawthorn for spring blooms and winter berries for the birds. Unless I live to be 97 like Mom, the maples will never reach spectacular in my lifetime, but they become more lovely every year. The hawthorn should be blooming in another three to five years, and the rose of Sharon even sooner. Hopefully, I can replace the birch with a tree that is actually mature enough to show off its white bark. Then, even if it dies, it will be beautiful. The goal was to produce a "screen" to hide my house even more completely in the spring and summer from travelers on the road. Now, that I think about it, a mini Dennis effect, I suppose. I think I may add a weeping willow as well, next to the maples. (Shhh, don't tell Dennis I'm stealing his ideas.)
The drawback at this point in the history of my acres is that there is not yet much color up here in the front. Some leaves on the maples in the fall is about all I've got. A new bigger version of the birch will help, and the willow is lovely in the winter when the limbs are covered in snow, and someday the hawthorn will have white flowers in the spring and red berries in the winter, but for now, nada. (If you've never seen male cardinals feasting in a hawthorn tree in a snowstorm, stay by your phone, and I'll give you a call some cold November in about five years or so. It will be worth the wait; I promise. Gorgeous site.) But, ahhh, what to do in the meantime? Behold! I have a plan to remedy the entrance. This fall I'm putting a host of orange day lilies along the front by the maples and a bed of various blue iris to the very right of the driveway in front of the willow and rose of Sharon. It will be the first thing visitors see when they pull on the property. And from the middle of May on, I'll put some annuals in the bed. And someday the rose of Sharon will bloom in late August. Sounds lovely, don't you think? A plethora of orange--more and more each year--on one side of the entrance and in May a "pond" of blue iris on the other side. Ta Da! Color!
And so, I abruptly end Chapter 1--still looking for a title.
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