No matter where we have lived we have always ended up being the neighbourhood misfits. I think this might have something to do with the fact that when we were in our active parenting years we had five kids living under our roof. When you think about the shoes, boots, jackets, bikes, hockey sticks, etc. that accompany just one child through their growing up years, then multiply that by five, well, you can see how things might have had a tendency to not always be neatly sorted and stored.
In my defence I would like to say that we might have had 20 pairs of shoes scattered around our front door and another 10 pairs heaped in a pile on top of the shoe rack, but we almost always could find the pair we were searching for. This shot was taken a couple of years ago. I have no explanation for the empty rack. Or the top one.
I thought that once the kids moved out our days of being the neighbourhood misfits would be behind us. I was wrong. Now the issue is our backyard. I have two garden boxes that take up most of the flat space, the slope is sprinkled with various grasses, bushes and trees, and the upper part is a dry-land xeriscape. It is the xeriscape that is the source of the problem.
The neighbours on the other side of the xeriscape are a very nice retired couple. The problem is they are perfectionists. No weed would dare make an appearance on their property. The lady spends countless hours worrying about her flowers and their location. She is constantly moving them around to get the right colour combinations, and when we have a backyard chat she spends great amounts of time telling me about her plans.
This is all fine. I get having a hobby. But here's where the problem comes in. Her anxiety over having the perfect yard has spilled over to my yard, garden and property. Countless times this past summer she would Not So Subtly tell me that I had some weeds up on the xeriscape. She would go so far as to offer to pull the weeds for me. Well, remember, I am the kind of person who the minute someone tells me to do something a switch goes off in my brain preventing me from doing the very thing they have told me to. I left the weeds. Besides, by most people's standards there were no weeds. Not only that, they were in a far corner out of my sight.
I'm not even sure what the point of this post is. All I know is when I had Fergus out in the backyard yesterday I was looking around and thinking what a relief it was to know I don't need to worry about the weeds, or pointed comments about the weeds, again until next spring. I can let my irritation hibernate over the winter.