On Nothing Much
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Tile Top Table
Patio Umbrella
Water Fountain
Weber Grill
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The Patio Recently, I found myself reading again a primer entitled, On Writing Well, by William Zinsser, my favorite grammarian and wordsmith. Of no significance to his titular topic but illustrating a point on seductive leads, he writes: ". . . . you can tell the temper of a society by what patio accessories it wants." One can indeed. Versus the Lanai The concept of a patio is interesting to me. I grew up in Honolulu, and there we had lanais not patios. The Hawaiian word "lanai" means a roofed veranda, patio or porch. But in the islands, a lanai refers to an open-air family room and sometimes wall-less storage closet. Essentially, a basement with better ventilation and views. Here on the mainland, patios (like their calabash cousins, wooden decks) seem to be more complicated. They often comprise a personal garden oasis, a decorator's homage to outdoor living, a grill master's command bunker, or some combination of these. I wonder what insights upon frontier exuberance and materialist destiny a modern-day Alexis de Tocqueville would draw from a six-month tour of America's backyards. Tile Top Tables As zeitgeist sign posts, patios I've seen lately draw from several disparate elements. Among the must-haves are tile toppers - metal-framed tables laid out in a grid pattern holding ceramic or other earthenware tiles that form the surface of the table. I find it strange that these tables are sold without the tiles. Not because the tiles are an added expense - I understand that most purchasers want to customize their tables with individually selected tiles. The odd thing for me is that I missed the commercial revolution where these types of tiles became widely available in local hardware and home furnishing stores. When did floor tiles come to the level of laundry detergent and garden hoses? Patio Umbrellas In my youth, we didn't have patio umbrellas. If you were outside and bothered by the sun, that's what trees were for. Failing that, there were lanais and indoors. Now, having slurped and nibbled at many sidewalk and market square cafés, I appreciate the functional and aesthetic-dramatic benefits of the outdoor umbrella. What intrigues me today is the large variety of colors that home patio umbrellas come in - another byproduct of our need-have world. Time was that dark green or tan were the only readily available colors without special order. Now, stores are routinely stocked with vibrant reds, bright yellows, and bold blues. Other colors, stripes and patterns are widely available online. I think that umbrellas are to patios what throw pillows are to living room sofas. Nice, but I'm not moved by them. Water Fountains Years ago I turned to an old friend, well skilled in the craft of gardening, for advice on my then new and still current patio, and he said to me, "It needs a water feature." "Water what?" I thought. You see, growing up out in the Pacific where daily rain showers were commonplace, we were more concerned about water deflection. "How about a fishpond?" he suggested. That was 15 years ago, and my friend's creative concepts have always been far ahead of mainstream design trends (someday I'll share the story of his Irish brown afro-style perm). How could I know then that the emerging social order would soon affirm that every well-considered patio this side of the Edwardian era needed a pool, pond, waterfall, rivulet, birdbath, fountain or hot tub? Not on my budget. What a difference the passage of time makes. With so many homes now sprouting water features out back, I'm surprised the neighborhood squirrels don't stumble and drown on the way to their stash of nuts and other edibles. I will say, though, that the sound and smell of falling water comforts me. And since it doesn't rain as often here as where I'm from, a water fountain can be a noble thing. The Weber Grill I tip my toque to the outdoor grill, and love seared grub as much as any other over-salivated foodie. But lately it's become an arms race out back - stand-alone charcoal grills, gas grills with built-in side burners, smokers, fire pits, turkey fryers, and forward-deployed ice makers and mini fridges. And these are by the folks who haven't yet erected permanent outdoor kitchens next to their water features. I'm of a practical bent, and believe in cooking outdoors solely to avoid overheating the house, filling it with smoke and fryer-atomized oil, and burning the walls down. Other than that, I can survive with just one kitchen and schlepping the food out back. I need the exercise, and it gives me an excuse to step away from the partisan dispute among true believers over charcoal versus gas. Patio as Archaeology I don't know what the modern patio reveals about us. I am somewhat discomfited by the fact that I have a tile top, umbrella, water fountain, and grill. Two of the four were gifts, but I doubt this diminishes the possibility that I am a cultural lemming. Like the creatures that fascinate us on science and nature programs, we spend much effort transforming our habitats in ways that fancy us. But I question how we might look through the business end of a documentary camera. Especially when a narrator intones gravely: "Watch how he moves the grill toward the tile top table and opens the bright-patterned umbrella. The former marks his territory with scent, and the latter attracts potential mates." Brian
Lam On Nothing Much is a periodic feature of this website that considers life about us. I wish to thank those of you who are reading these postings and sending me notes of encouragement, gentle criticism, or otherwise. |
