Mister Chestnut’s Heritage

My childhood home in a small town was located across from a public meadow. In summer, I picked flowers and played with the kids. In winter, I learned how to ski on the little slope just above the meadow. We had an uplifting view of nature all year long. We watched and felt the seasons come and go. – One day, the meadow was gone. Someone had built a hideous apartment building of gigantic dimensions right in front of our house. Not a square inch of green was left, the view blocked completely. The sky had fallen. We moved out.

Many years later. I live in a city apartment. Except for a nearby park with a little pond, not much nature around. My windows on the fourth floor overlook a busy street. The bedroom is the only room with somewhat of a view of nature, and very quiet. An old majestic chestnut tree resides in the courtyard. Mister Chestnut watches over my sleep, purifies the air and lets the birds build their nests. I leave the window open, all year long. – One day, Mister Chestnut is gone. Instead, someone has built a hideous apartment building of gigantic dimensions right next to my bedroom. Way higher than a tree. The sky is half blocked. My window is now face-to-face with a balcony. So close that I can almost shake hands with the new neighbor. I am in shock. My only hope is that they will beautify that intrusive structure with lots of plants, to make up for the loss of my tree.

A woman moves in. Sent from hell? A chain smoker, performing telephone marathons on the balcony, day and night, with a voice to awaken the dead. After only one week, I know everything I never wanted to know. The whole neighborhood is suffering from this woman. All our diplomatic attempts are fruitless. I now leave my window closed at night. Her voice goes right through the glass. After a year, still not a single green stem on that balcony. Hey. This is not fair. Why me? Should I move out? Should I stay? I like my apartment. The location is fabulous. I stay. – One day, balcony woman moves out. Halleluja! The neighborhood throws a party. A man moves in. He is quiet. His mother places a flowerpot on the balcony. His girlfriend moves in. One year later, they move out. Suspense is building. What will the next neighbor be like?

The gods are gracious. A woman with a green thumb moves in. Overnight, there is a plethora of flowers. And stillness. No more smoke. Thanks to the birds, an elderberry and a sunflower settle in the balcony’s rain gutter. The woman leaves them alone and allows them to grow. With nature regained, I feel reconciled. I still miss my old green friend, but I sense that the late Mister Chestnut may have had a hand in this turn of events. I am grateful for his successor, Lady Elderberry, who is producing more precious blossoms every spring. I leave the window open. I put flowers on it, so Lady Elderberry may enjoy the view. I wish to reciprocate the beauty that she has reintroduced to my life.

Living in a big city, privacy is a rare thing. “Nature” is restricted to public parks, balconies, window sills or the occasional tree along the sidewalk. Studies suggest that indoor plants and even only images of nature have the same calming effect on the human psyche as the “real thing”. Doesn’t impress me. I prefer the real thing.

Step #9 = HANG IN THERE, OR QUIT