I know I have some weird neighbours, but then maybe they see me as someone with two heads. Who knows! And would you blame them? That second head is hard to camouflage and my eyes are very far apart! 😉
I have lived here in my little palace since I married 30 years ago. It is in a small estate of 20 similar style bungalows. The buildings may have looked similar but the gardens were all different. The fact that the ground was on a slope and every two bungalows were on a different level helped to change the look.
In the past ten years several changes have taken place. A sun room here, a conservatory there and the odd roof space conversion to add to the mix. The latest is that two Houses sprouted in one garden. Well that should be in half a garden as the original bungalow is still there with lawns to the front and rear.
The neighbours, like the houses have changed as well. Some of us have stayed put, but aged. While others have moved to be closer to family; yet more have flown to pastures new, and a few have gone to the great big garden of eternity.
We now have a mix of age groups, from over ninety down to late twenties. For the most part you could call them ‘street friends’, you know the type, address you by first name and shout a friendly ‘hello’ or ‘that’s a lovely day’ if you were in the garden or if you meet them down the town. Yet they would never think to knock on the door to check if you were al-right. There was one gentleman who would blatantly ask how much you paid for a new car or the latest fill of heating oil! Mind you, if HE got a bargain he became very tight lipped!
At least you saw the neighbours coming and going, cleaning the windows, cutting the grass or washing their cars. Naturally in winter time we all rushed indoor to the warmth and comfort of our firesides. Living in a Cul-de-Sac I quickly learned to tell without looking, the time of day by the sound of the motor cars. Each one had its own distinctive engine noise.
There are a few children about again, and I look forward to the stretch in the evenings so that I will hear and see them on their bicycles, go-carts or roller boots, endlessly plodding their way up the hill and racing back down again.
I was reading a post at The Other Side of Sixty the other day. Wisewebwoman is in the city of Toronto house-sitting, far away from her little village in Newfoundland. This temporary home has a fairytale look to it. I thought what a wonderful idea, live a different life, in a different place and indeed almost become another person for the duration. Now that should provide a wealth of blogging ideas!
Then she posted Transition a totally different angle on the area of her house-sit. She wrote:
My family came for dinner tonight.
They drove up to this suburban haven of large houses, double garages, and vast swathes of lawns from the city.
They remarked on the silence – quiet wealth makes no sound.
The trees are carefully landscaped and calibrated to enhance the neighbourhood. White birch, low slung colourful shrubbery and precise flowerbeds carved out of eye-hurting emerald green lawns.
There are no sidewalks.
Every house has got security and has picturesque ye olde outdoor lighting.
The front windows are all in darkness.
There is never any life on this street.
I assume any life takes place in the back of the house….
The photo she posted brought to mind my idea of a post- nuclear attack.
How can anyone live, never mind exist, in such soulless isolation? Maybe their lives are spent blogging!
So what is your neighbourhood like?