|Solomon has the right idea.|
After a day of working to a radio program interviewing an author about the impending death of the middle class, after sitting so long at the computer that I could no longer feel the difference between my own body and the chair I was sitting on, after turning away from the roll of paper I taped to the wall for a photo shoot and listening to it tear from the wall and crush the stand I had carefully constructed, after having to run a malware program in case an infected website I visited had passed its Spyware onto my hard drive, (it didn't, but I found 65 cookies that were telling other systems exactly when I was looking for blue suede ballet flats)...You get it. After things like that and more, it was no small relief to go out back for a few minutes, just as the sun was starting to set, and stand in some grass.
The motivation was to cut some herbs for our pizza dinner, though that was just an excuse. What backs up to our house is not, in any substantial way, a yard, it's more a strip of land that keeps our neighbors a polite distance. It's a few feet of very sharp bermuda grass, a hedge, a cabbage palm, and some kind of a kind of walnut tree, (I think). I'm not growing or arranging anything that a real gardener would do anything but shrug at. But those three terra cotta pots of spindly basil and oregano and chives and cilantro, set into a calamity of ixora and umbrella plants: they're my plot, my crop, my bountiful harvest.
Yeah, I know. But what it's really about is a few minutes outside, a scrap of sky, a fringe of canopy, a strip of green stuff a hundred million miles away from Spyware.
And it makes for some really amazing pizza, too.