Tag: neighborhood

Posted in neighbor, neighborhood

Front yard of the week

Posted on by William Douthwaite

I chose this as my “front yard of the day” because the eclectic design drew me in.

  • A “Welcome to the Shitshow” banner
  • A meditative frog
  • A stately egret
  • A grimacing pelican
  • A patriotic pinwheel
  • Blank directional signs pointing everywhere and nowhere
  • Three pedestal solar lights
  • One spiky plant in a pot
  • A trio of bowls where rain collects

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.

Posted in Through the Bible Devotions

This yard sale was a bust

Posted on by William Douthwaite

Saturday’s garage sale was a bust. Seven people stopped by. Two bought stuff. I made $12.

That’s why I’ll only sit out there for a few hours. No two day eight-hour marathons for me. I put it out on social media and a few roadside stands, but it just wasn’t happening.

The first lady who stopped by walked up and asked, “Are you selling any patio furniture?” I choked back a chuckle, looked at the tables of toys, lamps, and kitchen stuff before answering, “No.” Where did she think we were hiding those items?

The second couple was very friendly. As the woman looked over the toys for sale, she said, “Our youngest just moved out.”

I asked, “How many children do you have?” The husband held up four fingers. I followed up with, “Any grandchildren?”

She answered, “No, and we probably won’t. Two have already had vasectomies.” I thought, “Okay, too much information.” They looked very surprised when I told them I had ten grandchildren.

They didn’t buy anything.

My next customers were a mother and son who drove up in a silver Mercedes. I didn’t quite recognize their language, so I asked where they were from. Haiti. They had a lot to say to each other about the items we were selling. He brought a couple of table lamps over for me to plug in. He set them aside to buy, but she put them back on the table. She had him hold up some room-darkening curtains and held up four fingers, trying to talk me down from $20 for two complete sets. I held up ten fingers. She frowned and shook her head.

She had me plug in a hair straightener. It worked just fine, although she really didn’t have the hair to use it on. She put it aside as if she might buy it. She added three glass vases and a dozen plastic storage tubs with lids. The two bickered back and forth, deciding to buy the two lamps, but putting back the straightener.

Finally they were ready to go, adding a small fan and handing me $10. I said, “Merci,” and they drove off.

A young mother was our last customer, gathering up two silicon baking mats and a few toys for a one-year-old still in the car with her husband.

Posted in dogs, neighbor, neighborhood

Picture perfect poop

Posted on by William Douthwaite

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)

Posted in neighbor, neighborhood

Shorty-short mailboxes

Posted on by William Douthwaite

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.

Posted in neighborhood

It’s not easy being a mailbox

Posted on by William Douthwaite

It’s been a rough week for mailboxes in our neighborhood. Every morning I notice new ones that have been attacked and left for dead.

A few years ago, it looked like someone drove down the street with a baseball bat, taking out a whole row of roadside mailboxes. I’ve seen the latest rash of violence in front of random houses. Whoever it was didn’t just take a swing at the mailbox, but intentionally knocked down whole posts.

I suppose this is how some have fun late at night. I don’t know who they are, but they are bold. When most houses have doorbell cameras, someone is going to see you. You’re going to get caught.

I know most mailboxes are just plain ugly. Even brand new ones only look attractive for a few months. The Florida sun and heat quickly takes its toll.

My mailbox is intact. For now.

Posted in neighbor, neighborhood

He’s painting his windows!

Posted on by William Douthwaite

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.

Posted in neighborhood

Each one unique: all those mailboxes

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Nikolay Loubet on Unsplash

During a recent walk, I marveled at the variety of mailboxes in front of the homes in the neighborhood. It seems like no two are alike. That’s amazing given that I walk past hundreds of houses on a usual two-and-a-half mile trek.

Black, white, and shades of brown dominate. But there’s also teal, forest green, gray, and rust red (literally rust-covered). Some are wrapped with patterns or pictures.

I’ve noticed a few ornamented with turtles, small black bears, pelicans, flamingos, lizards, eagles, fish, manatees, and mermaids.

Some look like small houses. Others are covered with vines and flowers. Colleges are well represented, along with branches of the military. Seasonal flags hang from some, while others have small flower boxes.

The boxes are supported by bricks, wood, concrete, chrome, miniature lifeguard chairs, metal poles, and 4×4 timbers.

Even though few people get the newspaper delivered, a quarter of the mailboxes have a newspaper slot. Those who get the paper usually have to pick it up off the driveway anyway.

Some mailboxes have locks. I’ve never had mail stolen. Some are just the opposite: the door has fallen off. Some of those folks don’t check their mail very often. I can see rain-soaked, sun-dried bills in them.

Almost all have numbers, affixed at all different angles. One had the address written out in longhand with paint. I’ve only seen two with the family name on them.

The majority are a standard height. With a chuckle I pass one that’s only two feet tall. To be fair, that could be for someone in a wheelchair. Over time, many have started leaning forwards, backwards, and side to side, some at crazy angles.

In some communities, all the mailboxes are together in the middle of a block. I think I’d miss all the creative ways people receive their mail.

Posted in noticing

Flamingos

Posted on by William Douthwaite

Okay. So, let’s talk yard flamingos.

First of all, is it flamingo or flamingoes? Either is acceptable, but flamingos is more common. It’s good to get that out of the way.

Here in Florida, yard flamingos are common. Until March 2026, the Northern Mockingbird was the state bird. But the state house and senate just passed legislation making the American Flamingo the new state bird. This is just one very important issue the state government in Tallahassee must address. But this post isn’t about politics. It’s about flamingos!

Here in northeast Florida, people love to put metal, plastic, and ceramic flamingos in their front yards. Some have been there for a long, long time. They are faded and rusty. Others are fresh pink plastic versions of the birds we love to see at the zoo in Jacksonville.

Flamingos are pink mostly because they eat brine shrimp.

The collective noun for flamingos is a flamboyance. I love that!

Plastic pink flamingos were first made by Don Featherstone in 1957 (that’s when I was born!). They were designed to be tacky, but also to indicate ownership with no mortgage.

Some say flamingos communicate your courage to be who you are, live your color (what color am I?), and be connected to a flock.

I like all of those directives. However, most of the flamingos in front yards are old, worn, and weathered. They are tired memories of well-intentioned front yard decorating ideas.

One of my granddaughters combined flamingos and penguins into a mythical “flaminguin”. Can you imagine a flamingo in a black and white tuxedo? Or a pink and white penguin? I can. It’s awesome!

Posted in neighbor, neighborhood

Anonymous neighbors

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Breno Assis on Unsplash

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?