Flush It!

Ξ June 21st, 2007 | → | ∇ Politics, Culture, Society |

Unwilling audience to a conversation, I got to listen to neighbors looking down their noses upon other neighbors. There is an eccentric couple who live on a corner nearby, and, though their property is well-kept, it isn’t pristine lawn and flowers planted nicely in orderly rows. It’s artistic, with a rusty frog (purposely rusty) peering out at the world from a riotous flower planting, driftwood and miscellany artfully attached to a purposely rustic fence, and, amongst other interesting touches, a disintegrating fiberglass bear set in such a way as to present an artistic statement. (The bear, by the way, was “original artwork” done for an exhibition and auction, compliments of one of Sandpoint’s stupid tourist-draw marketing frenzies.) In other words, their yard isn’t tame, sterile, and “suburban plastic.”

I applaud these individuals on their choices. I applaud their “nerve” (as one snippy neighbor so nicely put it). I applaud their choice to be themselves, a house that looks alive amid blocks of sterile lawns which mimic AstroTurf, and plantings that come straight out of Martha Stewart’s idea of a Stepford Wife’s Perfect Planting. *YUCK!*

Psst! You know what REALLY irks everyone? They can’t see into these folk’s side-yard and backyard or through their windows. They made their place very, very private, except for the front corner yard, which, of course, is gorgeously unique, and completely obscures any nosy eyes from spying in their windows or beyond the gates. *snicker*

I think people ought to take their snippy attitudes and their concern about what someone else is doing in their lives, with their property, and how it looks, sounds, and IS, and stuff those thoughts back where they belong – vaulted inside their much too empty minds. …Now, all together, folks: FLUSH!

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Night by D. L. Keur

Spirit of the moon,
Rising at the death of solar light,
Furls the wings of eagles' flight
Until the images of night
Are but an echo.

June, 1990

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