Me: We’re looking for a fast-growing shade tree to plant next to our front bedroom.

Nursery owner: Well, how tall do you want it to grow? How tall is your house?

Me: (thinking)

Kim: (in serious tone) Well, it’s a single-story house. I don’t know—100 feet?

Nursery owner: (looking at Kim like she’s crazy)

Me: (looking at Kim like she’s crazy)

Kim: (with a look that acknowledges that her calculations are a little off) Oh, no, it’s probably more like 65 feet.

Me: Let’s go with 15-20 feet.

Nursery owner: Right. Well, maples are probably what you’re looking for.

I love her more every day.

I’m not one to brag, but my presentation—an exploration of many themes I’ve written about on South of Sunnyside, actually—was pretty spectacular. No, really: I don’t know of anyone that can talk that fast for 6:40 straight.

In case you missed it…well, you missed it. Still, I’ve embedded my presentation below; it may not make much sense without sound, but it didn’t make any more sense with me talking.

All joking aside, last night was awesome. The talents and passions that are expressed through these events help me to fall in love with Fresno all over again.

My hat’s off to Kiel and Creative Fresno for putting on such a remarkable event.

I really hoped we had seen the worst of the housing market.

But this weekend, Kim talked to the neighbors and discovered that the family across the street is putting their home up for short sell; if it doesn’t sell within a few months, they’ve already decided they’ll just let it go.

The family that rents next to them will also be moving soon—the owners have previously neglected to care for the home, so I don’t have high hopes that they’ll maintain it now.

Three houses down from them, a home twice the size of ours is for sale for the price we paid for ours.

Around the corner from them, another home has been abandoned, and now bears the yellow stains of decaying grass. Another abandoned home sits another three houses down.

As if this didn’t fill my life with enough cheer, a significant number—as many as 20, perhaps—of the trees lining the south side of California Avenue between, Fowler and Clovis, look to be dying. I think our neighborhood is giving up on itself.

Perhaps these trees are over zealous with excitement about the eventual change of seasons. Maybe they’re simply not getting enough water. Whatever the cause of the browning leaves, it’s only affecting trees on the south side of the road. Our side of the road, that is.

There’s a light breeze.
The high is in the high 70s to low 80s.
The canals are flowing at full capacity.
The air is clear.
People are outside, enjoying it.

Wait, what’s that? It’s not April? What the hell do you mean it’s June?

I keep letting my nerves come between me and a garden. I have to move sprinklers around, and build a fence (the labor isn’t an issue, but understanding the mechanics of sprinklers is). I have to build beds. And get soil. And fertilize. And water. And seed. And eat—but that’s the good part.

Surely, there’s a gardening book for dummies, right? One that embraces the unique climate of the Central Valley? One that provides an estimated cost for all that’s needed?

Rumor has it that one of the houses, along with another one on the north side, are up for sale. Not that the value of our home matters much anymore (we don’t mind paying two mortgages on the original amount…at all), but these properties are discounted about $150,000, compared to the purchase prices just three years ago.

Of course, if these two houses sell (and that’s a big if), as of the first of the month there are two newly-abandoned homes to take their place.

Though Giuliani’s success as a leader may be at least partially credited to factors beyond his control (such as a national drop in crime rates), his adoption of the Broken Windows Theory addressed more than specific criminal actions; he arguably addressed the psychological and sociological effects of financial and physical marginalization.

From Malcolm Gladwell, author of The Tipping Point:

Broken Windows was the brainchild of the criminologists James Q. Wilson and George Kelling. Wilson and Kelling argued that crime is the inevitable result of disorder. If a window is broken and left unrepaired, people walking by will conclude that no one cares and no one is in charge. Soon, more windows will be broken, and the sense of anarchy will spread from the building to the street on which it faces, sending a signal that anything goes.

Fresno’s windows aren’t broken—they’re boarded. And those that aren’t covered up look out onto neglected properties, complete with dead (or dying) grass, wilted shrubs and trees, and an eery (and depressing) feeling of abandonment.

Certainly, irresponsible homeowners and banks play a significant role in the foreclosure crisis, but a house is part of a neighborhood, which is part of a greater community. We’re in this together, and in many ways we’re all to blame; if that seems a bit of a stretch, consider the lines of credit, based solely on equity, that rapidly inflated home prices here in the Valley just a few years back.

Homeowners who’ve weathered the storm (especially those in newer neighborhoods) are reminded of the economy’s uncertainty every time they—okay, we—leave the house and pass by a yellow lawn. So, how do we fix the windows?

On Saturday morning, a man by the name of Jose will come to look at our yard. He comes highly recommended, and we have hopes that he’ll transform our back yard from a weed-infested, patchy jungle, into a paradise. Or at least something more than what it is (which shouldn’t take much).

The machismo inside of me holds strong; it’s taken me three years to give in/up, but I know that the decision to outsource will ultimately benefit the marriage. Yeah, that’s it—I’m doing it for Kim.

The city’s song about sprinkler settings is annoying, but memorable. But does it apply to everyone? I’ve known homeowners who violated the rules, but on my evening bike ride tonight I noticed the green space (well, the shrub space lining the street, at least) was soaking in a sprinkler shower.

Are developers exempt from the confines described in the song?

Finally, we arrived at Running Horse—what once was Running Horse, anyway. A few signs of life surrounded by decaying landscape.

I toured the development back in 2005 with Leadership Fresno, when things were greener. The golf course was under way, and dozens of homes had already been built; in fact, our class was told that they were selling out of lots faster than they were being opened up. Cost of a home back then: $350,000 – $1,000,000, not including a $50,000 country club membership.

What’s left of the golf course is mostly dead grass and trees, but much of the cart path is paved. I took note of this, and last week I returned with a friend and two bikes. We rode around for a while, imagining what could have been.

I hear that the entire development may have recently been purchased, but in case the rumor’s not true, and assuming that Trump’s interest hasn’t renewed, I wonder what the maintenance costs of converting the course to open green space would be.

It’s certainly not wise, given the water shortage, to flood the would-be golf course to get the grass growing again, but maybe the paths could be preserved, and the property divided into sustainable gardens. Rock gardens, cactus gardens (like the one at the Discovery Center)—you get the idea. A Woodward Park, of sorts, of West Fresno.

Sure, Kearney Park is just around the corner, but it’s fenced in, and less green space than historical preserve (in terms of use, not actual space, or green grass). This could be something different. Something Fresno.