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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?

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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.

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[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.