Thursday, June 16, 2011

Country Livin'

I grew up in a suburban area of California known as Scripps Ranch. Scripps, as we Scrippies call it for short, has an audaciously misleading maxim written in pretentious and cursive script under the town's welcome sign- Country Living. Ok. Lets get real for a minute. Everyone who inhabits these parts should know perfectly well that the only thing country about it are the "bird cages" situated within the complexes of the local business parks, where peacocks have supposedly been stored by rebel farmers for decades. And the reality is, that said cages are much better known for being the secret locale for awkward, pimply, bored, upper-middle class teenagers to smoke pot without their parents' belligerent disapproval. 

I believe that the things/places/people truly adherent to their respective mission statements need not literally spell out their mottos in bolded, cursive, or neon letters. I will never buy a vehicle from "Honest Joes Used Cars" just the same as I will never consider a person self-described as "smart" any intelligent. While Scripps Ranch may have originally been designated a getaway for a minority of city dwellers, it is now a mass of concrete, cookie-cutter slabs of stucco, crafted one on top of the other to form a relaxing escape for more than 32,000 people. This country lifestyle also boasts enormous chain grocery stores, nail salons, gas stations, fast food joints, and in general, the same conveniences of a city, but under the misrepresentation of a private country retreat.

The juxtaposition to my current residence was made particularly stark today as I went foraging in the backyard/Italian countryside for my lunch. This is real country living- identified not by the sign claiming to be so, but by the inescapable smell of cow dung, the itch in my eyes, and the fact that like, maybe ten people live within five miles of here. Oh yes, and the FLIES! The flies that fly slower than the Italian Postal Service- definitely indolent enough to catch in one's hand, providing a country boy the proud yet false impression that he is in fact agile. 

So, this is what I spent my afternoon doing while Giulio was inside studying the legality of abortions. I guess he's one step closer to becoming a doctor and I'm one step closer to riding a bull and lassoing in the  sunset. 

ain't no country living in this metropolis

must lose lbs. to enter garden

welcome to the ivy league, peacocks

empty basket full of hope and promise

backyard foliage

discovery numero uno- an unripened pear & mini alligator

peach fuzz unlike my rabid mustache

apricot acting like an ass

conventional crowd predictably ostracizing the weird ugly

the savaged one is always most compelling

zucchini feigning apricot


imminent preeminent walnut


(assaulted by nature in exchange for this photo)

mini eggplant makes me want to explode with babies


almost ready for the ball

plum, the only one

randomly placed & most insanely massive non GMO zucchini EVER

tipping the scale

magnolias on the way in

the end. now show me your fruit basket.


Mad Dog said...

You neglected to mention a couple of other aspects of "Country Living", namely the 6 lane freeways (I-15 around Escondido) and the fact the air is like poison gas most of the time. Having said that I do think the Highway 1 coastal strip is stunningly can thank developers and sheer greed for the stucco jungle that masquerades as countryside around SR.

Angela Cochran said...

beautiful lady.

Elyse said...

Oh, Scripps Ranch isn't soooo bad - but it definitely does not compare to this secret garden you have found!

ps. I squealed at the baby eggplant.

Natalie said...

Scripps? Small world. I'm from La Jolla.