Okay, I lied.
Here’s another post about a mailbox in my neighborhood. Here’s a broken metal box nailed to an old wooden post. A fusion of two broken worlds. Functional. Ugly. Creative. Resourceful. Not even close to code. Unashamed. Neighbors hate this. Mail carrier must chuckle every day.
This is definitely Florida man. Hell no, I’m not buying a new mailbox. The old post hasn’t fallen over yet. All we get is junk mail anyway. A couple of nails. Problem solved.
I chose this as my “front yard of the day” because the eclectic design drew me in.
The residents may have had some rhyme and reason for this collection. But it’s not obvious to me.
Do these folks lack direction in their lives? Or do they feel like they’re being pulled in so many directions that life seems out of control, or as they put it, a “shitshow?”
Perhaps they allowed each person in the family to choose one item for the front garden. The collection represents the personalities and preferences of those who live in that house.
I suppose it could be a collection of gifts they felt compelled to display, lest they insult the givers. (I wouldn’t feel obligated, but that’s just me.)
So there you have it. My choice for front yard of the week.
A neighbor framed his driveway with these new signs last week. On my daily walks I haven’t noticed any dog waste left behind.
Until today.
Today someone deliberately left a bag of poop right there in the driveway. It wasn’t me. I swear. But I want to thank the person who did for creating the perfect picture for me.
This does nothing to improve the neighborhood. I have this theory that these signs cause owners to make their dogs wait until they arrive at these yards.
Let’s say for the sake of argument that the camera catches my dog, big or small, making an early morning deposit on this lawn. What would happen next? Is there facial (or butt) recognition for dogs, revealing their home address? Would someone come knocking on my door with photo evidence of the crime? Could they get a canine restraining order?
These signs come and go in my immediate neighborhood. They fade, rip, deteriorate, and eventually blow away. Nature will restore balance to the world.
Sign, sign
Everywhere a sign
Blockin’ out the scenery
Breakin’ my mind
Do this, don’t do that
Can’t you read the sign? (Five Man Electrical Band 1971)
Okay, this will be my last mailbox piece. At least for a while.
Today’s topic: short mailboxes.
I chuckle every time I walk by these two mailboxes. They are short. Really short. They struggle to max out a two feet. USPS indicates a height of 41 to 45 inches to the bottom.
So why have a shorty-short mailbox?
The gracious answer: the person is in a wheelchair or scooter. That’s what they can reach. Their house has lower counters and lower shelves, to accommodate their limited reach.
Or perhaps they are just short people. One doesn’t use the word midget any more. So maybe it’s a little person or person with dwarfism. For them, a mailbox like this works.
Bad installation? Maybe. Someone didn’t buy a long enough 4×4. Or got carried away pounding one into the ground. They were too lazy to change it, so they just cut it off and made it fit. Who cares? It’s mostly junk mail anyway.
It could have been a former mailbox casualty, fixed and restored. After discarding the broken pieces, this is what was left. Good enough.
I’ll try not to chuckle too much when I pass these homes. Short mailboxes have feelings, too.
It’s six-thirty am. It’s just light enough to see. And what I see is my favorite neighbor painting his windows. That’s right, he’s painting his windows with a very small roller and a pan of paint.
Go back and read that again. He’s painting his windows.
You’ve read about my favorite neighbor before. If not, check him out. (You know, the one who ripped out his lawn, put lights in his driveway, painted his house white, and didn’t want visitors.)
I thought I would never write about him again. What else could he do? How far could he go? What was left?
And yet here we are. He’s painting his windows!
Okay, maybe he wants more privacy. Fine. What about curtains? Too much sunlight in the morning? How about some nice blinds? Peeping Tom in the neighborhood? I doubt it. If there is, call the cops.
So there you go. Another chapter in “the most interesting neighbor” saga.
So this is the most recent picture of the neighbor I’ve written about before. (You know, the one who ripped out his lawn, put lights in his driveway, and painted his house white.)
Anyway, here’s the latest. In the pictures above, you see that he’s stacked up sprinkler donuts to create a security barrier for his front door. A looped cable connects them. That “No Soliciting” sign will surely repel any who think they can jump the barrier.
Door-to-door sales is still a thing. I never did that, but did knock on doors for market research. Had I seen this setup, I wouldn’t have to read the sign. I would have walked right by. No way I’m walking up to this door.
I daily walk by homes with security system signs, motion-sensitive floodlights, cameras mounted along the roof, metal bars across the windows, loud woofing dogs, and prominent “No Soliciting” signs. I give them all a wide berth.
Ironically, the houses with the most security are the least appealing homes. Spoiler alert: no thief is casing your house. No solicitor thinks about knocking on your door.
Paranoid? Maybe this is a booby trap. Explosives? Who knows. Is that even legal? I have no idea.
Don’t worry, I’ll keep my distance.
I have three new neighbors who live within one hundred yards of my home. Since the day they moved in, I have never seen them outside of their house.
As you (my readers) know, I walk my dogs at least twice a day. I pass by these homes in the early morning and in the afternoon or evening. I drive from and to my house and out of and into my neighborhood at least once a day. I see cars in the driveway and lights on inside the house. But I have never seen the people who live in these homes.
Do they never come out of their house? Do they spend all their time on the lanai by the pool out back? Does someone deliver their groceries to them? Are they alive? (On TV, people die in their homes and no one discovers them for weeks.) Are they nocturnal, awake at night but asleep during the day?
I know, I should take the first step. I should knock on their door and introduce myself. I should bring cookies or brownies to welcome them to the neighborhood.
But I don’t. I walk by their houses, wondering who’s in there. I naively assume that I’ll see them out and around. I’ll wave when they drive by. they’ll wave when I drive by. I’ll see them cutting the lawn, working in the garden, or washing their car. I’ll pass them walking around the block or gathering mail from the mail box.
Nope. None of that happens. Either they totally isolate themselves or they are completely invisible. I see no one going into our out of their house or garage.
I think that’s amazing. In this digital world, it’s almost impossible to disappear. We leave traces of ourselves everywhere, when we get cash from an ATM, drive through intersections, pay for gas, buy stamps, check email, text a friend, and follow GPS to a destination.
Aren’t there times when we all want to be invisible?
I exclaimed, “Wow, do you smell that?” As the big dog and I rounded the corner on an pre-dawn Sunday walk, an amazing aroma filled the air.
Someone must have been frying bacon on a cast iron grill. The incredible smell filled the air around us for at least a hundred feet of our walk. I thought, “I need to get to know these neighbors!”
My joy quickly evaporated as we turned another corner and slammed into the obnoxious smell of someone lighting up their first cigarette of the day. That must be a powerful addiction to have to light up before sunrise.
We pass another house where someone likes to start their day with a cigar. I don’t mind that smell so much. It just surprises me when the breeze blows that smoke across a yard that early in the morning.
The other early morning aroma I enjoy comes when someone has been smoking brisket or a pork butt all night. What better than the smell of wood, seasoning, and cooked meat filling the air?
This is the latest episode in the saga of a neighbor with unusual house projects. So far, he’s torn out his lawn, installed yard lights, modified his yard lights, and made it very clear he doesn’t want to be disturbed.
He has decided to paint his house. He’s painting his house white. All of it. Walls, trim, and shutters. Everything.
I have nothing against the color white. White walls with contrasting trim could be attractive. White trim against darker walls is eye-catching. One hundred percent white? Sorry, that just doesn’t work for me.
Do you think he’s priming it in preparation for a few color? That would make sense. But I doubt it.
I haven’t actually seen my neighbor working on this project. And it looks like he’s using a brush rather than a roller, so this is going to take some time.
I’ll keep you up to date.
Waite for it... 