Utopias have always been a part of our human delusion, a product of our constant desire to dream big and win.

                                                ~ Ruxandra Guidi

I took a walk into our backyard, ostensibly checking the garden for ripe veggies, but really just to chill out in the early fall warmth. Seeing I was not doing anything interesting, our dog wandered off to do her own chilling out. I walked carefully across the grass, watching for any dog poop, but also enjoying the play of grass and weeds in the sunlight.

Leaves are starting to fall from the many trees in our yard, and the squirrels skittered away when I approached. A couple of the squash plants appeared dead, so I pulled them up and tossed them into the compost pile, where a feral tomato plant had made its home and was straining to get big enough to flower before the impending cold weather.

I had filled the bird feeders the day before, and was rewarded with the company of a couple of doves who only shied from my presence at the very last minute with a loud fluttering. Other frequent visitors to the feeder are the several Magpies with their interesting vocals that rival the high notes and squawks of the two Blue Jays. A Downy Woodpecker has found the sunflower seeds to be tempting, but tries to avoid the bigger bird traffic. Multiple small birds slip in and out of the feeders when the bigger birds are gone or distracted. Various birds, some mice and our cats appreciate the spilled seed that the Chickadees and jays scatter when they rake through the mixed seed to high grade the sunflowers.

Our garden beds are pretty messy, but reasonable productive. We’re getting lots of tomatoes, and have had plenty of squash and cucumbers over the summer. I was surprised that we were able to get a couple of winter squash, and a few pumpkins that survived the onslaught of squirrels and nocturnal raccoons. We had some success with the beets, but the carrots weren’t thinned appropriately and will all be small. They’re still pretty sweet, so it’s not a total loss. Lesson learned for next year.

Our kitchen windows spread across the back of the house, offering a great view of the backyard. The bird feeders are close enough that the birds are easy to observe and hear. Scavenging squirrels roam the flower beds beneath the feeders, as do our cats hunting the resident mice that haunt the rock walls.

Our side patio provides a similar view, but interrupted by several trees and shrubs. We can visit with our neighbor’s dogs through the fence, or even directly with them if they’re outside in the front of the houses. The umbrella keeps us cool when it’s too sunny or we can enjoy the warmth of the sun, but it is only partially effective against the falling leaves.

Over the years we have worked on keeping the yard comfortable — not requiring excessive tending. Thus, our yard is not a suburban fantasy, but serviceable for growing things we enjoy — veggies and flowers — and as a place to relax and enjoy nature. We don’t begrudge the raccoons or squirrels a squash or pumpkin or two, although I admit I am less tolerant when they nibble on the tomatoes.

Ruxandra Guidi notes, “I’m interested in something else: a nature-first vision that’s small in its foundation yet leaves nobody out, including non-humans. By their very nature, utopias have always been a part of our human delusion, a product of our constant desire to dream big and win. But why do we need them? Maybe our dreams should consider our current reality instead of obsessing over building out some technologically dependent fantasy of the future … Maybe ‘utopia’ can really be that simple, as (Nurseryman Drew) Berryhill hopes — the kind of authentic, nature-first experience that starts small and inspires others to do the same in their own backyards.”   

Maybe it’s not perfect, but I still consider my backyard utopian — maybe ‘shabby-utopian?’

Additional information:

Ruxandra Guidi, We Don’t Need Utopias, Sept. 1, 2023, High Country News,