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Slice of Suburbia
Dad, enjoying the "lawn."
Suburbia can suck it. Clans isolated in their castles, moated by lawns, concrete, and cars; no decent food joint or watering hole within walking distance. It works for kids, who can frolic carefree in protected cul-de-sacs – I loved my suburban childhood. My sisters and our respective gangs of kids from neighboring houses owned the streets – each yard was a new territory for us to discover and conquer. But as an adult, with no kids of my own to watch over? BORING.
I like to be where things are happening, to see the world hustle and bustle. I’m a city girl. It’s in my blood. Both of my parents were born and raised in Brooklyn, New York, where the only playground was the busy street in front of rows of tenement housing and apartment buildings. My father, who currently lives in Mission Hills, is known to set up his lawn chair on the sidewalk in front of his building and read a book or simply enjoy a cigar while watching the activity in his hood.
But, despite my city living, I admit there are aspects of suburbia that I miss. Namely, all things green. Not that a lot of grass is (or should be) happening in a drought-ridden city like San Diego, but all of the residential kingdoms my sisters inhabit contain well-manicured gardens, grass, trees, green
Having a fondness for plants doesn’t keep them alive, and though I wanted a lush garden on our new patio, I knew that in my hands the green would be brown within a week. David, unwilling to become my gardener, but understanding my need for green, came up with a solution: fake grass. He researched and found a company called NewGrass, which made realistic looking and feeling turf, and then he ordered enough to cover our terrace.
A glimpse at my yard.
Now I have my own little slice of suburbia in the heart of the city. I can enjoy coffee on my “lawn,” and still be able to walk a short distance to the nearest sushi bar.
Here's something you might be interested in.
Slice of Suburbia
Slice of Suburbia
Dad, enjoying the "lawn."
Suburbia can suck it. Clans isolated in their castles, moated by lawns, concrete, and cars; no decent food joint or watering hole within walking distance. It works for kids, who can frolic carefree in protected cul-de-sacs – I loved my suburban childhood. My sisters and our respective gangs of kids from neighboring houses owned the streets – each yard was a new territory for us to discover and conquer. But as an adult, with no kids of my own to watch over? BORING.
I like to be where things are happening, to see the world hustle and bustle. I’m a city girl. It’s in my blood. Both of my parents were born and raised in Brooklyn, New York, where the only playground was the busy street in front of rows of tenement housing and apartment buildings. My father, who currently lives in Mission Hills, is known to set up his lawn chair on the sidewalk in front of his building and read a book or simply enjoy a cigar while watching the activity in his hood.
But, despite my city living, I admit there are aspects of suburbia that I miss. Namely, all things green. Not that a lot of grass is (or should be) happening in a drought-ridden city like San Diego, but all of the residential kingdoms my sisters inhabit contain well-manicured gardens, grass, trees, green
Having a fondness for plants doesn’t keep them alive, and though I wanted a lush garden on our new patio, I knew that in my hands the green would be brown within a week. David, unwilling to become my gardener, but understanding my need for green, came up with a solution: fake grass. He researched and found a company called NewGrass, which made realistic looking and feeling turf, and then he ordered enough to cover our terrace.
A glimpse at my yard.
Now I have my own little slice of suburbia in the heart of the city. I can enjoy coffee on my “lawn,” and still be able to walk a short distance to the nearest sushi bar.
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