I've been brainstorming away at home names and come up with some I like, such as The Fox Burrow or Aspen Hill House or Lilac Corner. But it's hard to find a name, as Mike has called many of my ideas, and I quote, "put-on," "poser-ish," "inaccurate," and "a name for a maiden aunt's house."
After a stint of weeding this afternoon, I'm afraid the most apt name would be "Dandelion Park." We have dandelions coming out of our foxholes.
But Mike and I visited several garden centers and the xeriscape demonstration garden today, and I am all atwitter with ideas. The second garden center, Colorado Tree Farm Nursery, has won us as lifelong customers. 98% of the plants they sell are Colorado grown, and they focus on hardy, low water plants that grow well here. (No more ladies from Alabama trying to sell me magnolias.) It's the family-owned business that sold us our Christmas tree, and they just seem so homey (they even invited us to a BBQ on Friday).
I discovered a bush there, called the Buffaloberry Bush. Isn't that a delicious name? It marries Colorado (buffalo) with cute (berry). Whether or not I like the plant (which I can't tell, as they're not leafing yet), I've decided to plant them all over our yard and make jams and pies from their berries and call our home "Buffaloberry Ranch." Mike can't say this is too girly, because buffalo are very manly. And ranches, they're manly too. (Though our home isn't a ranch, cattle do graze on the land behind our home.)
The nursery also sold so many varieties of lilacs and fruit trees, that I want to buy 27 right now. I foresee my fence with a long row of flowering lilacs along it. And a small orchard bearing Montmorency cherries and Royal Plums and Reliance Peaches. (Though "Reliance" is just about the least romantic name for a peach.) I have faith my orchard can grow in this forsaken montane land, and my new friend at the nursery has bolstered my hope.
Now comes the hard part of choosing what to do where in our yard when. I don't like doing things in moderation. And as it turns out, trees are not free. But Mike is. Next time you see him, his hands are going to be cracked and bleeding with the blood of buffalo berries and royal plums and sour pie cherries.