Warning: long-ish post ahead, though I tried not to make it a monthlong epistle.
When we bought our house, it was in rough condition, inside and out. It had plumbing issues and bare concrete. The seller did put in cheap carpet and fixed the most egregious plumbing issues. The yard was a jungle of knee-high weeds and ants. Lots and lots and LOTS of ants.
Our initial response was a slash-and-burn approach, bringing us to a naked yard, front and back. The front was covered in rocks, which isn’t uncommon in Arizona. Unfortunately whoever laid the rocks didn’t put any kind of landscape fabric under it. Therefore it not only didn’t stop the weeds from growing — the layer of rock made it exponentially harder to eliminate weeds.
So while it wasn’t pretty, we were glad once we reached this stage:
Certainly better than the unholy mess inherited when we got the keys.
Four-ish years later, we still battle ants in the back yard, albeit in a vastly diminished capacity. (My daughter said “the entire front and back yards moved” the first day she was here. She wasn’t wrong.) The weeds still sprout whenever it rains — nothing will prevent that. But the yard, front and back, has undergone a significant upgrade. We’ve added a dozen or so landscape plants which, once they really fill out, should make a significantly more inviting exterior.
But what took us by surprise this year was this little bush, planted just outside the back door:
It was a garage-sale purchase and we frankly were more interested in whether we could keep it alive than what it’s Latin name was. The seller spoke little to no English, and my paltry Spanish wasn’t enough to help. From the leaves, I thought at first glance it might be an oleander. I crossed oleander off the list before we planted it, though I still didn’t know what it was.
Over the winter, we figured it had died altogether. From the leaves and blooms above, among my first official photos taken with the new camera a couple of days ago, we confirmed it was only a flesh wound. (Cue Monty Python.)
Thanks to a comment on Vero, we now suspect it’s some variety of Vitex/chaste tree. If so, it could get interesting, considering how close it is to the kitchen window and the back door.
The photo directly above is its shrub phase, by the way. Some varieties can reach 25-ish feet high and easily as wide. I think ours is planted far enough back from the house to keep it from breaking through the kitchen window.
Oops.
G says he’ll gladly trim it back if it gets too large, but if it makes more sense to transplant, I’d rather do it before it gets huge.
We love the prospect of a ginormous tree, as long as it’s far enough from the house to prevent damage to the foundation and/or roof. Established trees and plants add tremendously to the value of a home, especially in this part of the world. And I’d be thrilled to trade a kitchen view of the neighbors’ brick wall for a bank of purple blooms and deep green leaves, not to mention the shade it would provide. (Here’s hoping we can get another one going in the front yard if I’m right about it, too!)
Shade is a valuable commodity in this part of the world.
On the tentative agenda for the next few months, as we creep toward retirement:
- Get updated photos of the front and back yard, next time we have a cloudy or partly-cloudy day. There’s still a lot of naked dirt in the back yard. The proportion of dirt-to-plants is getting better every day, though, as the plants get established. This is the only job on the list we can do ourselves.
- Add some paved walkway and ideally a drip irrigation system in the back yard. This is part of the rationale behind the photos. Our plantings have been somewhat random, but pavement needs planning.
- Replace the broken Saltillo tiles and crappy carpet indoors. I hate our floors; but more importantly, our foundation is cracked. It needs patching before we put the place up for sale. G might argue, but this is really non-negotiable.
- Replace the fluorescent lights in the kitchen. We have the replacement fixtures, just need to get it done.
- Replace the ceiling fan in the office. The light works but the fan motor’s shot.
- Replace the bathtub and surround. This one’s another non-negotiable. Our existing tub and surround are one piece and there are a couple of holes in it. We patched with waterproof tape, the definition of a stopgap measure. When we rip that out I’d love to add a small window, or even a couple of glass blocks — anything to give the bathroom some natural light.
Oh yeah… we did indeed do the flying day trip to Wickenburg over the weekend. The featured photo at the top of this post is from a nearby ghost town called Vulture City. It’s truly out in the middle of nowhere. Hard to fathom it was a thriving community of a few thousand people, going back to the mid 1800s. They ran pipes 18 miles, through trenches dug by hand, over rough terrain, to bring in water.
Most of the structures were rubble only a few years ago. The site has been reconstructed to retain its historic feel. There are several old vehicles on site, along with buildings, various mining equipment, a blacksmith shop, and more.
The owners charge a fee for entry – $15 per person, $12 for seniors — which I thought was more than fair. You can enter the buildings, but everyone who steps foot on the property has to sign a liability waiver. 100-year-old abandoned buildings and equipment aren’t known for their stability, even when reconstructed.
Because Vulture City is a managed site, there’s no graffiti or trash on the property, except era-appropriate detritus here and there.
We also went just in the nick of time. They closed for the summer effective yesterday.
I didn’t go into any of the buildings. They’re not wheelchair-friendly and I wouldn’t risk either getting hurt or damaging the structures. Because I told the owner as much when we were paying, he didn’t charge me admission. I told him I was fine with taking outdoor photos only — it’s a huge site! — but he just waved it off and told us to have fun — which we did. I finally packed it out after getting stuck in the sand a few times. I didn’t want to risk completely destroying my power chair, tempting as it was to to explore further. But I’d been through most of the site – and still have dozens of more photos to dig through.
We were bone tired when we got home – and it was worth every bit of it.
It sounds like your plans will really make a difference. I’m glad you are so detail oriented. I am sure if you transplant that tree, it will be lovely. Any color should be eye catching.
We can’t transplant this time of year. Temperatures are supposed to hit 100º this weekend. And this could be a smaller variety – not sure the ginormous ones will grow here — or if they do, that they’ll grow to the larger size. Highly doubtful they’d get that big while we live here, since we’re hopefully only gonna be here a few more years anyway.