South of Sunnyside

“…Odd numbers water on Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday…but never on Monday!”

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?

Kim and I drove out to Kerman a few weeks back for a birthday party for her nephew. On the way back, she wanted to take a detour down Kearney Blvd. We drove for miles, surrounded by nothing but tall palms and eucalyptus trees (or so it seemed).

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.

Note: That might be the corniest headline I’ve ever written. I apologize for being so lame.

I spent a bit of time outside yesterday tending to our yard, so Kim went out today to care for the next door neighbor’s, where the health of the neglected plants is in rapid decline. Fortunately, there are still a few signs of life, so rather than removing the distressed plants, Kim simply trimmed most of them back.

To her surprise, she encountered many wasps in the process, and one got the best of her (see the last picture below). We didn’t have any chewing tobacco, but I did moisten a cigar for the bite—it’s a remedy I learned as a child, but it didn’t seem to help Kim much.

The remaining plant beds look a bit barren, but at least they’re clean, and no dead extremities are falling into the walking path.

The tagline above reads "The grass is greener where the water is turned on." That’s my attempt at (very sober) humor, and is an allusion to the many yards around me that are no longer watered regularly.

Grass isn’t the only part of the lawn that’s affected when the water is shut off, but it’s the first to go; actually, we can see the signs of decay after only a week, maybe two, of summer weather. After six to eight weeks, the rest of the plants start to fade.

Kim keeps a single sprinkler running in the adjacent yard, but the perimeter plants—bushes and topiaries—are now showing signs of long-term neglect. The yard next to this one (opposite us) is fading much more rapidly, as our hose doesn’t quite reach it.

Can these plants be revived at this point?