Saying Goodbye to Bintliff Drive (Part 2)

In November of 2011, after 52 years, my parents moved away from 9203 Bintliff Drive, the geographical epicenter of our family life. After one last purge of the garage and shed--we will exchange our final goodbyes . . .

Goodbye Red Patio

Our yard was small, but full of interesting trees, greenery, flowers, feeders and attractive containers with hibiscus, roses and drought surviving annuals my parents tenderly cared for. I will miss sitting outside during the fifteen or twenty breezy minutes between sunset and the arrival of its notorious mosquitoes. Patios (Spanish: “back garden”) are an entertaining area adjoining a house, typically made of concrete or stone slab—ours was always painted terra cotta red.  Houston is fifty miles from the coast, but we could set our clocks by the turn of the warm Gulf breeze each evening. Mom would often call, “Come sit on the patio before the mosquitoes eat us!” Dad would add, “Shut the sliding door!”  

Among all the other big trees (above is half century old live oak Dad planted as a sapling), there was a small magnolia tree outside my bedroom window. When it was a sapling, the lawnmower “stunted” its growth, but that deep nick kept it just the right size to shade my window and still reach the fragrant lemony blooms we kept floating in a bowl on the kitchen table. Eventually it had to be chopped down, but Dad erected a fun little fort that all eight grandchildren enjoyed—a small cutting garden replaced the fort. We also had a beautiful American Holly tree with brilliant red berries we enjoyed from the breakfast room window several months a year. The birds that got drunk on the berries were also pretty entertaining.

One of the oldest fixtures we will leave behind is the squeaky, silver swing set where we released megatons of energy and stress. At least five generations have loved the old teeter totter--the neighbor kids of our era, my grandmother "Honey", my mom, all of our children, and now my grandson (their only great-grandchild). Here, "Gammy was still gliding pretty high at 80!

Backyard memories: Age 4: I was catching frogs in a glass jar, which broke, cutting a tendon in my tiny thumb; Age 5: During Hurricane Carla (1961) we criss-crossed masking tape on the sliding patio doors, but the towering birdhouse still fell on our roof ; Age 7: My  best birthday party—a surprise backyard carnival.  

My cousins, Alan and Bryan, performed a magic show at my carnival party

Age 9: Playing with “Sam I, II and III”, our beloved Siamese cats (all called "Fleabag" by Dad) Age 11: Playing catch with my Dad before Ladybug softball; Age 14-17: Practicing Herky jumps and Apollo Queen routines; Grilling steaks on a bright red Weber charcoal grill with Chuck's secret sauce (melted butter and garlic salt); and finally our annual Christmas, Easter and Birthday piñatas , homemade ice cream and  watermelons As I say goodbye to the old red patio, I’m only adopting two things for myself—a log cabin birdhouse and an antique birdbath which will fit right into my patio haven in Tennessee. We may not have the Gulf breeze in the evenings, but I sure don't miss those culex mosquitoes (click if you are attracted to ickiness).

[To be continued]