by Joy Monger
My parents have this huge, awesome yard that’s part urban garden, part wild wooly terrain, and part found-art museum. Secreted all over the yard they’ve hidden giant bails of barbed wire, metal cranes, yard sale finds, homemade benches, old toys and tiny buddhas. It’s a magical little mystery world tucked inside a city block.
Everywhere they travel my parents keep an eye out for a new piece to add to the garden. Conch shells from Mexico get shuttled back in suitcases and turned into planters. Boulders on the side of the road in Kansas are hefted into mini vans, driven cross-country and lovingly placed in beds of lavender. They’ve been known to cruise the nearby amusement park looking for old metal pieces to add to their collection. They’ve also been known to get kicked out of said amusement park.
I saw these photos of the Neon Museum in Las Vegas and thought of my parents and their garden. They’d be so happy spending a day wandering around, seeing the beauty in all these old neon relics; loving them as much for their story as for their looks. And any one of the neon pieces would look great in my parents’ outdoor oasis.