Good Neighbors

We interrupt our regularly scheduled programming for a rant.

When we moved into our new house this spring the yard, both front and back, had something of a junglelike quality to it. According to our next door neighbor, henceforth known as Gladys Kravitz, the landscaping had been originally done by a former owner who was quite the expert in Japanese gardening, but more recent owners hadn’t kept the property up like it should have been. I’m sure Gladys had an underlying unspoken message in there about how she expected us to do better. Although we had every intention of cleaning things up I remained noncommittal to Gladys.

Being a rather large yard, we decided to tackle it in small chunks, not because we were doing the work ourselves but rather because we had the expense of hiring someone younger and stronger than ourselves to do it. Throughout the summer progress was made, flower beds weeded, random baby trees uprooted, mowing and trimming attended to on a regular basis. Things are starting to look better.

We come to today. The landscaping folk are here, in the yard, removing two low lying shrubberies that through the years have become rangy and bedraggled looking. These particular shrubberies, while in our yard, have provided a small amount of privacy between our yard and Gladys’ yard. Gladys burst from her house this morning as the workers began and questioned W extensively, advising him that taking out these shrubberies would leave her yard and ours exposed to one another. HORRORS! W informed her that we didn’t mind a bit losing the small amount of privacy afforded by the shrubberies as they were unattractive and due to lack of previous care had spread spindly branches hither and yon and took up too much room in our back yard. Gladys insisted that we must replace them with something to restore privacy, perhaps a fence. W informed her that we didn’t need a fence, but if she desired to put one on her property that would be fine. Eventually she huffed off into her house.

As the workers were removing the shrubs they found an offshoot that had grown over onto Gladys’ property and had taken root there. They left it for her. It is after all on her property, and since she likes the damned things so much she can have it.

I know there are a lot of people who value their privacy, who want to have no prying eyes on them or their property. I happen to not be one of them. I like open views. I like cutting across backyards. Sorry to those of you who want me to stay off your grass. Feel free to cut across my yard anytime you’d like. Feel free to watch me as I do things in my yard if you’d like. I probably won’t waste my time watching you, but I might look over and acknowledge you occasionally, perhaps even smiling and saying hello. If you want your privacy, put shrubberies in your yard or build a fence or whatever, but don’t tell me I have to keep shrubberies on my property to accommodate you. Ain’t happenin’ Gladys. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever.

And how does this rant belong in my deepest, darkest thoughts? Well, let’s just say that if it were as easy as twitching my nose, dear old Gladys wouldn’t be a problem to anyone anymore.