Rather than addresses, most of the guest cabins at the conference center where I work for part of the week, have delightfully horticultural names; such as Camellia, Lupine, Holly, Dogwood, Huckleberry, Strawberry and Cottonwood. Others have names that are suggestive of idyllic locations, such as Meadowbrook, Creekwood and Rustic Dell. Then, . . . there is ‘Dumpster View’.
Dumpster View is not actually a guest cabin, or a lodge, or any building that any of the guests would ever see. It is part of our maintenance shops buildings. Although large, these building are outfitted with only a few windows. The largest building has only a single window for an office. The smaller building has only four windows. Two of the windows have a view only of dumpsters.
The picture above shows the view from the window in the galley. It was what I saw as I made coffee for the crew in the mornings back when we all were still working. As many as fifteen big dumpsters have congregated in that herd, right outside, beyond the spider plant. Because the area is a paved driveway with significant traffic, I can not even plant a tree to obscure the view.
No amount of houseplants bigger than the spider plant can obscure this view without becoming obtrusive. Hanging pots outside the window might detract from the outer scenery, but would require more attention than I want to devote to them. Curtains would be the most practical solution, but would get grungy in this particular situation. Besides, no one else here really notices.
Horticulture is not for everyone, and can not fix everything. No one stays in the shops buildings long enough to notice how horrid the views are anyway. We all leave to go to work in scenery that others vacation in.