wild life

The orchard next to our house was a wild, citrus-scented tangle of ancient tangelo, pomegranate, orange, and lemon trees that persevered each year despite total neglect. The sharp edges of brittle, broken branches would catch on our sleeves as we chased each other through a shadowy canopy, the bristly underbrush poking at our shins.

The hillside orchard was on the far side of our big backyard above the San Fernando Valley. Between the orchard and the house was a badminton court, a terraced hillside with more fruit trees, and finally a large patio just outside the living room, which housed an outdoor dining set and barbecue. Cut into the patio tiles next to the dining table was a red wooden door leading to the underground cellar, just like the one at Dorothy’s house in Kansas - a rarity in the hills of Sherman Oaks.

Or you could describe the backyard as:

The orchard where I’d disappear alone for hours to make salads out of leaves, fruits and nuts and talk to myself.

The place where I poked a hole right through the center of my palm while trying to open a walnut with a butter knife and just stood there sucking on the wound, never thinking to call for help.

The terrace where we kept the rabbit, the chicks and the rats.

The ivy embankment on the side of the house where we would slide in our Levi's down to the street.

The yard was the place where we we worked out our anxieties and where I spent my treasured time alone, away from the pressure of being the kid who stayed calm through the storms, still too young to know that she was just as angry as her older sisters about what was going on. The yard was my personal retreat.

One night at about age four, I remember being in my nightgown, looking with great longing out to the backyard, from behind the French doors in the living room. Settling for just the view, at an hour too late for me to be allowed outside, I remember experiencing a flash of inspiration as it occurred to me that my eyes and memory were like a camera. For the first time I had the notion that I could take a picture of the blue jay flying through the black night sky at that moment, and keep the image in my mind for my whole life. And so I did. And so I have.