A Sunday at Pistachio House

So. My wife and I live in an urban neighbourhood known as Hilltop, or “The Hill” as I prefer to call it. The Hill is one of the oldest and grittiest neighbourhoods in the city of Tacoma Washington, a place that sometimes calls itself “Grit City”.

So that’s a whole lot of grit.

There are quite a few of us here who are trying to turn this little corner of the City of Destiny into something resembling Hobbiton. Or at least Bree.

Simply, we have become urban farmers.

Francine and I have transformed our back yard, once lawn, into a piazza with raised-bed garden boxes. We have six chickens, two cats, and a rabbit. The chickens produce three or four eggs a day, the rabbit makes compost like nobody’s business, and the cats (in theory) guard Pistachio House against the local predators.

Given that I work as a writer five days a week, and that I spend much of my free time writing on other projects, you might ask when I have time to be an urban farmer.

The truth is that my beautiful bride Francine does most of the work. She tends the garden, and she raised the chickens. I joke that my job is essentially to dig holes where she tells me to dig, but of course we work together on planning the big picture.

And what a plan!

Eventually, we’ll have an English garden in the front (it’s well on its way). We’ll have a grape arbour on the side of the house. Thanks to the help of many friends, we’ve been slowly transforming the old shed in the back into a chapel.

The attic will be a family room and guestroom.

Our garage will eventually be split in half – half garden shed and workshop, half pub and game room.

We’ve planned our little village together, and we each have different jobs that come out of that plan. And that’s a pretty good metaphor for our marriage. Together we plan, and then each of us works according to our strengths and aptitudes.

Today after Church – we continue to attend Our Lady of the Holy Rosary in Tacoma – we spent a chunk of our Sunday tending the Lord’s garden.

In no particular order, today I replaced a rotten board in the back porch steps, planted a fig tree, mowed what’s left of the lawn, helped muck out the coop, did some work in our last garden box.

Lunch by Francine on the piazza.

Ran some errands.

Some other stuff too that I’m forgetting.

Not work, mind you. Working on a Sunday is something I really do try to avoid, but none of this I consider work. This is just us being co-creators with God in the mystery of unfolding Creation.

A truly wonderful day, and now I’m writing this and consuming a tasty beverage.

This day has been a celebration of God’s creation. A glorious day. Truly, the day the Lord has made!