It's quite funny living in a town for a fortnight as Mr F to be has me kidnapped for decorating, in between the paint pots I'm often found in the scullery gazing oot the windae tae the back green. Lots of houses here have 'greens' rather than gardens, well that's how I think of them. A wee square patch of grass with a washing poles in each corner. Mr F's has a Rowan planted in his, shh, don't tell it its not supposed to be there, its in disguise between the washing poley's.
When I was little, my grannie didn't have a garden either, she had a 'back green', a wee patch with poles and tiny edged borders, I loved in in there, it was heaven. You went through the closey and out into the back green, stayed there for hours. Its funny being back in a town and seeing the 'greens' of folks houses with a border or so around the edge and the washing poles standing to attention in the corners. Your 'green' was functional for clothes drying, letting the wee bairns play and guddle in the mud. Walking the mutts about Kirkcaldy, there are a fair amount of old houses with closes like my grannies, (kind of alleyways, some covered some not) which lead to a myriad o' back greens.
I was reminded of this today as an auld wifey gave me a row for cutting across hers (public access way through) with my hoonds. To be fair I'd never mess with my grannies back green either, so we moved swiftly forward without citing the local access codes to her! Grannies and their own back greens are not to be challenged.
Wonder if its just a Scottish thing? Back greens....................??