Welcome to our Neighborhood

I love the opening scenes of summer: bright collections of yard sale signs gathered on street corners, with arrows leading the way to enterprising citizens and tiny bartering markets...

 The pitterpat of towel-wrapped children wandering home after a neighborhood duel with the sprinklers; old jalopies out for a parade or just for a sunny day,

the whine of occasional chop saws and grinders as neighborhood remodeling projects inch a day closer to completion, the gentle sighs of doves who-who-who have found a summer home nearby, leafy tunnels, lining neighborhood streets and canyons,

the hum of yard equipment as neighbors turn long blades of grass into well trimmed carpets of green. the scattering of chubby quail as they flit to their fortress deep within the big blue spruce.

Yesterday I fought the battle of wills with the weeds that had infiltrated my flower beds. It was a lengthy ordeal, and ten hours of yard work later, I had made significant progress. My white peach tree failed to come out of dormancy, so I stopped by the nursery to replace it. I came away with some fennel, dill, and eggplant for the garden, as well as an Italian Prune and a Lombardy white peach. The nursery coffers were looking rather sparse and picked over yesterday, so I was grateful I picked up most of my plants early in the year.

There was, however, a lovely stalk of corn with one greenhouse all to himself.

On the way home, I stopped by an unusual little joint that served these delightful "sliders" filled with generous portions of salmon, turkey, or even filet mignon.

The tables were made up of pop bottle cap collections under plexiglass. It was interesting to see which ones I remembered from my youth, and which have simply ceased existence to my knowledge.

 One of the side effects of having no children is that city festivals and events slip your attention. While I was up at 6:00 AM to weed while C caught a few more winks, families were gathering blankets and chairs to save a spot for the fireworks this evening. C headed off to school while I plodded away in the yard under the supervision of Kawi,

 who had a bit of trauma over a daddy-long-leg that tried to say hello, and who screamed bloody murder when I picked him up with my evil orange garden gloves, certain those gloves would eat him alive. Once C arrived home I put my sunburned self down for a nap while Kawi gnawed on a piece of dried mango...

and C mowed the lawn. I then introduced C to those delightful salmon sliders. When we arrived home we saw a neighbor buzz by on his way to return a borrowed riding mower,

followed by the clip-clop of our neighbor across the street giving the little ones rides around the block in his horse and buggy rig.

We declined the kind invite to watch the fireworks with these self-same neighbors and opted to watch the spectacular show from the comfort of our own porch, listening to the comments of neighbors who were doing the same. We then cuddled up in the comfy chair for a movie and some popcorn, while I made an occasional sprint to the dryer to remove C's dress shirts. As is our usual custom, C did not last through the movie, and so I saw him to bed and then finished buttoning up the house in preparation for the Sabbath day.