Neighbors

What’s your name?

These dogs are my next door neighbors. They moved in last summer and I don’t know their names. With two dog biscuits in my pockets, I broke through the thick evergreens that separate our properties and visited them this week. Their owners are thirty-somethings who rush in and rush out and spend the weekends away. I wouldn’t recognize them if we met in a convenience store, face to face. Isn’t it strange to have neighbors who are elusive and anti-social? All of my neighbors seem to be self-absorbed and caught up with the inside of their homes and rarely let the sun warm them. Busy, busy. I'm busy, too.

North Carolina is a friendly state and shines with southern hospitality. I like it here since we arrived in 2005. My neighborhood is lovely; however, it's loaded with corporate families who transfer often. In and out. But there is a lady I see occasionally who walks her King Charles Spaniel. She’s about seventy years old and when I see her walk by, she’s always looking up to my house. Pat has an uncanny resemblance to my Mom. She told me stories about her teaching and coaching career and her love of track and field ten times. Every time she tells her story, I listen and smile. Health issues affect her ability to walk without faltering which must be heartbreaking for a former athlete. I admire her love of outdoors. We talk Birds.

Living in communities is all I know. Growing up in a row home just inside the city limits, our neighborhood was active with children who played outdoors outside from sunrise to sunset and the adults really knew each other. Computers, TV, cell phones, and organized sports didn’t steal the life from us or the strength to walk down the street and knock on a door.

During the next few decades of my life, I made life-long friends over the fence. House phone rings - “Wanna meet me at the fence?”, or “Wanna take the dogs for a walk?”, or “Let’s take the kids to the snowball stand.”, or “Put your boots on, let’s shovel some snow.” And, “Let’s pack up for the pool after lunch.” "It's Friday, let's crack open a cold one."

And I’m so happy that my daughter, Gina, had that life… She had a heavy-duty organized sport to tend to but she also made some life-long friends in a real, living, community as she grew. As a matter of fact, Gina and her neighborhood friend, Regina, organized nights of “flashlight tag” with neighborhood kids during the summer they packed their stuff to attend out-of-state colleges. They were 17 and 18. How cool is that?

It sort of pains me to post bird photos with other homes in the background.

We own the tree in this photo. The multitude of birds attracted to my feeders, including pigeons and starlings, perch in my neighbors’ trees and on their decks

and poop all over the pristine properties the owners rarely visit.

So… let them sit in their kitchens and talk about me - the blonde who carries plates, buckets, and cups full of what-not to the bird feeders with a camera around her neck, in all types of weather – every day. They don’t know how much fun I am.

What I do is worth it. Screw the neighbors who don't like cold or hot or wind. I’ll lean on the fence and talk to the birds and my dogs. I’m too social for reclusive people.

Bella found something after dark last night...

First toad of 2008. CHECK!

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To all my neighbors out there in the blogosphere, please bear with me? I’ve not been a good neighbor. I’m working nine hours without a lunch break every day lately but it’s temporary. I want to acknowledge new visitors here and read others’ blogs but I’m whipped. It takes all my energy to post here with lots of typos and grammatical errors until things calm down. I’ll be back – hanging over the fence and chatting soon.