Spent months hunting for the right patio furniture so I could create the exact configuration I wanted for the space I have at a price point I was willing to pay. The other pieces have been assembled primarily from Facebook Marketplace, Goodwill, and free giveaways over the years. If I could, I’d live outdoors 24/7. I LOVE outside. As my friend Meghan says, I’m not outdoorsy so much as I am “outsidey”. As in, I’m not a mountain climber, I’m a trail saunterer. I’m not a backpacker, I’m a day stroller. I’m not a runner, I’m a hammocker. I’m a read-in-the-lounger. A watch-the-skyer. A listen-to-the-frogser. So, you know, setting up my outside spaces matters to me, and I’ve spent a lot of effort of late focused on comfortable outdoor living. Coffee tables placed just so for outdoor tea-sipping. Trash tucked behind the bar. Cozy rug under the sectional couch so I can eschew shoes and my toesies won’t be bruised by the exposed pebble concrete. Furniture placement easy to walk around for tidying.
It took my adult children and their cohort mere days to reconfigure the patio to their own liking.
The bar? Superfluous.
The garbage bins? Accessible which is far more practical and objectively more hideous.
The coffee tables? Cast aside to collect random detritus.
The furniture? Rounded up, shoved together, and lassoed tight with mishmash straps to create–what else?–a 1970’s style conversation pit. A gigantic puppy pile dog bed. A nest for the birdies about to fly the coup.
The children? Deliriously proud of their creation.
Cai keeps checking in to make sure they can keep it. I’ve already said, “of course,” mostly because, as much as I’d envisioned something lovely–and thought, foolishly, that I might achieve something aesthetically pleasing having all adult children now (HAHAHAHAHA!)–the whole point was to USE the damn stuff, and gosh darn it if it’s not the most popular furniture I own these days. So fine. Whatever. The harnessed furniture will stay bunched together as-is, a joyful, well-used lump.
I would say something snarky here like “this is why we can’t have nice things” except that the nice things I actually want are happy humans who know they’re welcomed and loved and that this space is truly theirs for existing as their whole, entire, true selves, and that’s exactly what I’ve got.
