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<a href="http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/?attachment_id=11378" rel="attachment wp-att-11378"><img class="size-medium wp-image-11378 alignleft" title="yard2" src="http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/10/yard2-225x300.jpg" alt="" width="225" height="300" /></a>

I live in a condo.  Which is really more like a patio home.  Because I have....well....a patio for a backyard.

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For a few years after moving into the condo, the backyard/patio consisted of dirt.  I am by no means a do-it-yourself-er.  And newly divorced teachers don't have extra spending money to spruce up empty yards.  I barely had enough money to survive.

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After some prodding, a friend finally convinced to me put some rock and desert bushes back there.  Approximately 8 years later, the bushes have taken over.  Periodically, the sage bushes bloom and invite every bee in the neighborhood over for a soiree.

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Consequently, I never sit in my backyard.  Ever.  Would you?

Even Bella is hesitant to go out there during the bee invasions.  And terriers are not picky about too many things in life.

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<a href="http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/?attachment_id=11377" rel="attachment wp-att-11377"><img class="alignnone size-medium wp-image-11377" title="yard1" src="http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/10/yard1-300x225.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="225" /></a>

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My friends have spruced up their patios into enticing miniature entertainment venues.  Last November, Dina hosted Italy Night. We ate authentic Pasta Carbonara prepared by a Real Live Italian, drank Italian wine, and listened to Italian music.  It was bliss.

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I coveted my neighbor's patio that night.  It's taken me almost a year to get organized with transforming mine.

[caption id="attachment_11380" align="alignnone" width="300"]<a href="http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/?attachment_id=11380" rel="attachment wp-att-11380"><img class="size-medium wp-image-11380" title="yard3" src="http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/10/yard3-300x225.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="225" /></a> This is not a table that could recreate an Italy Night. But soon . . . .[/caption]

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The main reason for my procrastination is my commitment-phobia with my condo.  I'm constantly fantasizing about moving.  One week it's Italy.  The next week it's California.  The week after that it's North Carolina.

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I've never even been to North Carolina, but for years I've dreamed about moving there.  I don't know if my North Carolina yearnings stem from an intuitive calling or from reading too many Nicholas Sparks novels, but the desire seems real.

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Sometimes I even contemplate moving to central Phoenix.  But that's hardly as exciting as the options above.  Yawn.

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And then I wake up and decide to renovate my patio.  I've lived in the condo for 11 years.  I'm more than likely staying.

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Maybe.

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If I do choose to shake up my life in a big way and move, then a Secret Garden Retreat will only enhance the property value.  Right?

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For Playdate #38, Ms. Unhandy attended the Home and Garden show for ideas and professional advice.  I watched many a man glaze over when I excitedly described my Secret Garden vision to them.

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<a href="http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/?attachment_id=11357" rel="attachment wp-att-11357"><img class="size-medium wp-image-11357 alignleft" title="IMG00280-20120929-1324" src="http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/10/IMG00280-20120929-1324-300x225.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="225" /></a>
A few of them understood me.