Borrowed Landscape

I’m visiting my brother in Indiana. Behind his backyard is a pasture with four riding horses, one pony, and one donkey. Watching the animals is a never-ending entertainment. Although my brother fantasizes about having a mini-farm here in the suburbs, I advise him to feel content with the borrowed landscape of his backyard—all the joy and none of the labor of that heavily padded man who is pushing a wheelbarrow of manure from one barn to another in this sub-zero weather.

We don’t actually need to own everything ourselves. There’s a lot to be said for living in community where you can freely borrow from your neighbors. My stepdaughter borrows her neighbor's dog, who spends more time across the street at her house than the dog spends in its own home.

Sharing--whatever we may have--dogs, food, landscape, or garden produce is a form of generosity. The neighboring riding stable shares their pastures and the animals without even trying. We are all interconnected.