On the way downhill, back to my home, I seemed to focus on the uglier aspects of my neighborhood. The overhead electrical wires seemed like a tangled conglomeration of metal and tubing, creating a terrible eye-sore. Then I noticed furniture sitting out on the sidewalk--worn out sofas and chairs with signs that said "free." Don't they know it is not lawful to leave your junk on the street.
It has become a custom to leave unwanted, but somewhat useful items out on the sidewalk for people to take. This practice seems to be successful. There are often people scouring the neighborhood looking for stuff to pick up. I often leave my discards out for charitable pick-ups, but often people on the street rifle through the bags looking for whatever they find useful. Now I am learning from my "Next Door" App that people will post that they have something to give away and then give a location for pickup--that works well. It seems to be a culture of "sharing"out there in the community.
The other day, however, this sharing culture had a funny outcome. In the front of our house, I had a plantar box made by my son out of old, grey fence wood which blew down in a storm. I had filled it with planting soil and put in some cactus and succulents. Even though the plants were drought resistant, they eventually died during last-year's drought. The dirt was also leaking out of the bottom of the plantar leaving a mess, and some of the wood was becoming unattached. I cleaned out the box and put it next to the house by the garage door, out of the way. I wasn't quite sure whether to give it to the scavengers or reuse it. Through several weeks of rain and sunny days the plantar sat there unused, maybe being observed by passersby. Then the other day, my husband saw an elderly woman come onto our driveway, pick up the rather bulky plantar box and carry it away. I kind of chuckled to myself how funny that was. I wanted to get rid of the box, but it had some sentimental value attached to it. I guess the muses took care of decisions for me.
Anyway, I was still feeling a little dismayed as I crossed the street to my avenue. There at the corner
was an older gentleman, hunched over his rose bushes, turning the soil and cleaning away the dead leaves and weeds. I almost walked by, but then I decided to talk to him-- after all he is my neighbor.
I asked him how he prevented the little worms that eat my rose bush from eating his plants. Well, he gave me very good advice. He said he doesn't use any insecticides since they are harmful to life and animals. He said he merely keeps his rose bushes clean and turns the soil frequently. I imagine he keeps them watered also. He also explained that he was 83 years old and is very healthy. He takes care of himself the same as his rose bushes. After his little talk, I said "Thank-you for the advice," and smiled as I walked back home. Despite the dreary day and rather unattractive sights in my neighborhood, I found something to make me smile--neighborliness and sharing.
