Safe Haven in the Middle of a Neighborhood

My Backyard Winter Wonderland

As anyone who has own a house can attest, being a homeowner includes an neverending routine of repairs, renovations and housekeeping. This is especially true when you have a house that was built in the 1970’s. Over the years, the quirks that made the house so appealing when we bought it are now just time consuming, expensive projects to fix.

There have been many times when I wanted to sell the house for something newer or in moments of pure frustration, wanted to tear it down and start over. Although the idea is appealing, tearing down a debt free house just doesn’t make financial sense. But I cannot bring myself to sell this house. Despite its lousy wiring, its leaking windows, what has always made this house so appealing is the land around it.  My yard, the largest on the block, still has many of its original trees. White pines, tall and straight, share the yard with mature red and white oaks and maples. Most of the trees are well over 40 feet tall and in the midst of summer, shade my house from the sun’s rays and nosy neighbors.

The house has the feel of being in the forest with all the benefits of a suburban neighborhood. My neighbors, who prefer to spend most days inside their homes, leave me to enjoy hours of solitude sitting in my back yard. Over the years, I have placed bird feeders, water dishes, nest boxes and brush piles throughout the backyard to encourage wildlife to visit. My efforts have paid off with a steady stream of birds and mammals, frogs and insects that frequent my yard throughout the year.

From my kitchen window I have an up close view of squirrels hanging off my upstairs balcony in pursuit of the sunflower seeds in the tube feeders hanging from the deck floor. Not to mention the times I have awakened to the sight of whitetail deer bedded down on the hillside behind the house. Or finding opossum and rabbit tracks up and down the driveway after an evening of fresh snowfall. Or my favorite, investigating the reason behind my howling cats, noses pressed up against the sliding glass door only to find a family of raccoons staring back at them.

It seems that nature knows when I am fed up with the house. Those are the moments when I spot a pileated woodpecker climbing up a pine tree or the latest litter of babies making their first foray to my feeders. I have created a wildlife safe haven, a refuge in an area that is rapidly losing its natural feel. How could I walk away from that?