Circumstances Alter

A poem-story about some unexpected visitors when we were watching the grandkids (three year old 'Frog' and 1 year old 'Bird') -

In retrospect, Frog’s words 

were a foreshadowing, when she

declared Deuce is coming over,

causing me to whip my head up

from the sandbox in surprise

only to see she simply meant 

the dog was running alongside the fence

keeping parallel with us while

still safely ensconced in his yard

like always

ah, not.

Right that very moment, 

that big ol’ lumbering dog

found a hole in the fence 

from where a previous storm

had sent sailing a big ol’ branch

and busted off the picket

unbeknownst to us,

meaning,

hello,

open season,

the neighbors' dogs can

jump through the fence

and join us in the sandbox!

ah, not.

Frog screamed in terror and

I surely wanted NOT to be

the adult in charge. 

Deuce is a very big dog.

To date, our entire relationship

has been across the fence

from one another.

All at once, here he was,

running to us, barking excitedly

I scooped up Frog, holding

her close, hurrying away, and

speaking soothingly to Frog,

saying he's a nice dog (I prayed)

Deuce paused for a moment

in the sandbox and then

ran to keep up with us.

ah, no.

I hurried towards 

the house carrying Frog,

while Deuce was

rushing along right at my heels

There was Tony holding Bird up high,

running from the the other side

of the yard, just as surprised

as I by our canine visitor, and

trying his best to wave

Deuce back through the fence,

to leave the way he came.

ah not.

I quickly opened the back door

and basically dropped Frog

into the family room for

safety, pivoting back to Tony, and

taking Bird from him, only

to hear Frog cry out 

from inside Oh no Nana, 

I have a shovel full of sand!

ah not.

That’s when Frog first lived

Mimi Ingram’s wisdom

Circumstances alter cases -

who cares about a pile of sand 

on the rug if no one has been 

bitten by a big ol’ dog? 

ahhhhh.

I am ‘big dog’ phobic,

but I wasn’t feeling so afraid

of Deuce; after all these months

of being alongside him in our 

backyards, I knew him to be 

old and slow and calm;

I was feeling scared of his buddy Ace,

however; oh my, different story; 

he barks so loudly, and

the owners take him for walks

with a thick chain to rein him in.

ah, no. 

Yes, as I hurried to get the 

girls inside the house, it was Ace

that was sending shivers

up my spine. In the tumult,

my eyes searched for

this second dog - was he

going to follow Deuce through

the opening in the fence?

ah, no, please, no.

I heard Ace barking loudly, and

then I saw - Ace was sporting

a cone around his head!

Which was bad for him 

and great for us at this

particular moment -  Ace

couldn’t quite fit, 

couldn’t wedge himself

through the opening.

ah, thank goodness.

Hearing all the commotion,

their owner was out back, too,

making apologies for Deuce

slipping into our yard

and praising his sweetness, 

his good nature - Deuce loves 

children and simply wanted 

to be friends. She and Tony chatted 

while he repaired the fence 

with a spare picket from our garage;

the girls and I watched in

safe fascination from the 

family room window.

ah, yes!

Frog wanted to know, 

why did Deuce want 

to be our friend? My answer

was a bit of mind-reading,

I suppose he likes seeing

us play and decided to get 

right with us. 

I must say, 

from my perspective,

Deuce is a better 

acquaintance 

than friend.

Just sayin’

__________________

It's Tuesday and I am participating in the

 Slice of Life.  

Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for creating this supportive community 

of teacher-writers!

dear neighbor

stunning surprising surreal
word 

a dear neighbor died 

unexpectedly

tingles all over

trembles

she was much too young

the death far too sudden

such a dear soul

kind

caring

vibrant

generous

light-hearted

grief as a wave overwhelming

chilling crumpling confusing

all of us in tears

off-balance

this cold awareness

something beautiful and precious 

gone forever 

extinguished

a hole in the whole

it must be obvious to all everyone anyone

stranger or friend

walking through our neighborhood -

the absence of light

___________________

It's Tuesday and I am participating in the

 Slice of Life.  

Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for nurturing teacher-writers!

SOL20 Slice #20: The neighbor

I am participating in the
 Slice of Life Story Challenge (SOL20).  
All participants are sharing stories about moments in their lives, writing 
 every day for the month of March 2020.
Thank you, Two Writing Teachers!

We only saw him when the lawn needed to be mowed. He seemed to wait until the last possible minute, working doubly hard, sweating and grunting, as he pushed the mower through the too high grass. Soon after he moved in, perhaps the very first time he mowed his lawn, my husband said hello and introduced himself; we learned his name was George and that he was a network engineer. He was our new backyard neighbor. 

We didn't learn much more; he wasn't very chatty. We decided he lived alone. Certainly, no one else in his home ever ventured out back. Landscaping tasks were totally ignored, and, over time, we watched the dwarf blue spruce and other ornamental treasures become totally encased in weedy vines. Unlike the previous owner, he was not a gardener, he was not an outdoors guy.

Every now and again, I'd be in my front yard, weeding, at the end of the day, and I would see him drive by in his blue BMW, making his way around the block, so that he could approach his house from the adjacent side of the street and pull right into his driveway. He was particular like that. I always waved hello.

The years went by.

In time, we realized that the yard was so overgrown that there was no longer any grass to mow. We hadn't seen George in a long time. His yard was a forest of common morning glory, oriental bittersweet, English ivy, "mile a minute vine," porcelain berry, and, we feared, poison ivy vines. We could no longer even see the dwarf blue spruce. Many of the vines grew thick like ropes, reaching high into the sugar maple tree that divided our two yards. The vines grew every which way and all about, climbing onto our shed and fence, encroaching into our yard. We kept trimming everything right at the property line, stopping the vines' progress. A family of deer took refuge in his yard, munching on the vines and the berries, and often jumped over the fence and into our yard. They must have been sleeping under all the brambles in the long forgotten yard, perfectly hidden and camouflaged. 

This was too much. 

This was neglect. 

We needed to talk to George. 

We walked around the block, to his house, only to find a foreclosure sign.

There was no George in the backyard house anymore.

This week, the new owner began cleaning up the backyard. My husband went over to say hello, and learned that he is going to rent the house out. He buys houses and rents them. He hopes to rent to a family. He hired three young, teenage boys who attacked that yard with energy, pulling and cutting and raking the debris. Their approach was akin to throwing all your living room clutter into the front hall closet when company comes - they never dug for any roots, they simply grabbed and tossed, not even wearing any gardening gloves. After three days of hard work, the yard is visibly transformed. There are no vines hanging down from trees. The dwarf blue spruce is much taller than we remembered, and beautiful, a centerpiece to the yard. There's no place for deer to hide. 

We were superficial neighbors.

When you know more about the weeds than you do about the inhabitants, something's wrong.

When you know all about the plants and the deer and the property line, but not about your neighbor, something's wrong.

We have to do better this time. We have to be better neighbors.

This is our land

I am participating in the
Tuesday Slice of Life.
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day.

A big thank you to Two Writing Teachers for providing this unique opportunity
for teacher-writers to share and reflect.

The day is stifling hot, with oppressive humidity and very little breeze. Maybe it will be cooler in the mountains? What a delight to be in our air conditioned car, listening to our favorite music, with a few hours free to drive to our property for our ritual summer visit. A few years ago (oh my, has it been 12 years now?), Tony and I purchased four acres of land alongside a creek in the Chattahoochee mountains of Georgia. This is sweet country! Great hiking, beautiful vistas, lazy living. When our boys were young, we often rented cabins in this vicinity. Our family has enjoyed so many fabulous days walking wooded and mountainous trails, collecting rocks and sticks, splashing in streams, finding waterfalls, playing in the dirt, reading, drawing, and eating outdoors. One day (soon?) we will get our act together and build a simple cabin here, a get-away.

We travel to Georgia each summer for Tony's family reunion. Every summer we trek to our property for a bit...and our imagination runs wild with plans. We create sketches, talk about a porch overlooking the creek, wonder about trees, birds, deer, and bears. Then, turn around, we are back in the thick of life in Maryland/Washington, D.C. and these musings fizzle out, become more faint.

But, hey, Tony is retired now...maybe we will finally take some serious steps to building this cabin...let's visit again and dream.

Tony knows the way to the our land by heart, but for me, I am still at a loss for how we get there until we are racing along on this one particular two lane road that curves a little to the left and then, just at the bend, Tony slows down considerably and makes a sharp right onto the narrow dirt and gravel lane...a road that demands we drive at 10-15 miles an hour max. We drive past our "neighbors" with simple homes and cabins. I love all the pretty porches, the flowers, the stonework. I smile. We're almost there!

Oh no.

What's that? Just up there on that barn, on the right?

Tony, do you see that?
Was that there last year?
Whoa.

I don't think it was. I'm sure we would have remembered.

We continue on, quiet.

The next house has one, too.

That DEFINITELY wasn't there last year.

As does the next.

And one more...that makes FOUR!... this one is HUGE and ENORMOUS, hanging alongside an American flag.

I am clutching my seat, my feet are acting like brakes on the floor board of the passenger seat. Oh, Tony - what in the world? How can this be? I ask with alarm.

Four Confederate flags.








I try to absorb this visual assault. My mind is racing - these are our neighbors? Just as I think that I cannot breathe, cannot catch my breath, we pass by a fifth property with an enormous flag.

A rainbow flag with the word PEACE emblazoned across.







It's impossible to describe how this rainbow flag lifted me.


Hope, waving in the heat.


This is the world that Trump has unleashed. A world where meaning is reduced to bumper stickers, tweets, and flags; where everyone is certain and absolute, digging in their heels, shouting their truth, and not listening to the other. Daring one another. Opposing. Hating.

This is our land.





We stop at our property and get out of the car, walking slowly and quietly. A hawk soars overhead. Tall trees surround us. So much green all around. A smattering of lacelike white wildflowers. So many beautiful rocks. A chipmunk scurries through the underbrush. The creek glistens in the sun.


This is our land.