Tag Archives: neighbors

Because you can’t say no to free trees.


In an effort to beautify his farm, our neighbor grew 100 silver birch trees. He planted a row of them  (54!)  alongside the road and I must say…. they’ll look impressive in a few years.

Next thing we knew he was planting them down his driveway, on the next door neighbor’s property and along the road on the other side of the street.

Not wanting to be left out, I asked if we could buy 3 to put in front of our big barn.




He said no.

But that he would be over the next day to give us three and plant them.

We love our neighbors.




This half dead flowering plum will have to go.




Spring was late in coming this year, and while our lawn is still trying to recover from some mid May snow and frost and doesn’t look it’s best yet, I had to laugh at the husband’s reaction to having parts of it disturbed.




You know that man in your neighborhood who’s constantly outside raking, picking up twigs, and screaming “Get off my lawn!” at children? That’s my husband. He’s been known to mow the same patch of grass 3 times in one day.




And yes, I bought him that shirt.

I think watching our neighbor tear up and fling the soil around was physically painful for him.





But he endured with stoic silence.




And we all got in on the act.




Say no to free trees?




I’m just going to say this once.


And I don’t want to start a partisan political fight.

But I’m getting tired of people snarkily saying, “You know that’s not going to protect you.” every time I go out in public with my cloth face mask firmly in place.

Yes, I know it’s not going to protect me.… but it’s going to protect you against airborne infected droplets in case I’m asymptomatic, which apparently many of us are.

I protect you, and I don’t think it’s too much to ask that you protect me… and by default my older husband who has 3 major underlying health conditions that would make catching Covid 19 a possible death sentence. I’m not an alarmist, or a panicker. I’m level headed and calm, but when it comes to my husband’s life? I’m not taking chances.





I get that the economy can’t be shut down indefinitely. I understand people are suffering, and if I could trust them to protect others? I would have no problem opening businesses. But a lot of the people I know who are out there protesting in large unprotected groups have jobs they can work from home and steady incomes.

They’re just upset they can’t go out and play.




Yeah…. let that sink in.

Pubs. In Ireland!

If the Irish can stop consuming their pints in public? I think Americans can deal with a little piece of cloth if it helps save lives.

And to those who say the crisis isn’t that serious because they don’t personally know anyone who’s ill? We’re relatively lucky in Maine, we have a low contraction and death rate, but even here…. in my small rural town? I know people. Our neighbor who lives behind us has it. Our neighbor to the left’s parents have it, one severe enough to require hospitalization.

It’s here.

It’s everywhere.

As this sad picture posted by a childhood friend who lives in NYC can attest.



There are no sympathy cards because there are too many deaths. If that isn’t the definition of serious, I don’t know what is.

Rant over.

You may now return to your regularly scheduled program.

Here we go again.


We love our large back yard.




Specifically because there’s nothing to see except grass and the occasional 4 legged visitor.

It’s quiet, peaceful and far away from other houses.



Remember a while back when I complained about the neighbor behind us who parked his motor home right next to our property line instead of on any of his other 10 acres?


Well, the other day as I was reading on the couch, I heard banging.

Do you see it?




How about now?



The neighbor’s house isn’t visible from our place, and they have a good 12 acres worth of property, if not more. Some is cleared, some wooded… and it goes right down to the water.

So what did they do?





They started construction of a tree house…… right next to our property line.

Grass? Ours. Brush? Theirs.

Maybe 6 feet between the end of our grass and their tree house frame.

12 acres plus… more than 522,720 square feet! But they had to pick the only spot on our common border that’s open to viewing from our side.

I’d like to bitch… but we love these neighbors, and have always had a good relationship.¬† The owner lost her husband to Parkinsons a few years ago and it broke all our hearts. The home is large and was too much for her to handle alone so her daughter and family¬† moved in to help. Two granddaughters and two step grandsons are now also in residence, hence the tree house.

Which technically it isn’t, since it’s merely tree adjacent.






I don’t mean to sound anti children, but damn. We’re on the other side of the life spectrum and relish our peace and quiet.

But there it is, looming over our backyard.

The perfect spying platform.




Did I mention it’s strategically placed on the only break of the tree line?


12 plus acres…. and they had to put it there!




I love my town … part, whatever.


Our town’s FB page has been filled with blog fodder lately.

Here are a few of the best…



Name That Scat?

You can’t get quality posts like this in the city.

No sir.



Damn, I wonder if that drone crackpot who wrapped himself in tinfoil lives close by?

No anal probes needed here.



This is utterly fabulous.

No joke.



Good thing the husband didn’t see this.

Free is a four letter word as far as I’m concerned.





I hope not.



Our townspeople are so helpful.

Because you can never be too prepared for Zombies.



Toilet paper…

What’s that?



The Easter Bunny was spotted last month, although I’m not sure why he needed a cannon.



Thankfully this person lives on the other side of town because while tire planters are never a good idea….

Hot pink tire planters would strain even Mr. Rogers’ love for his neighbors.

You can’t pick your neighbors…


But you can bitch about them on your blog, and that’s something.

When we lived down south we had a rental property next door. It was a revolving door of nightmarish neighbors, each one worst than the last. For 17 years we physically cringed when the moving van pulled up to unload the next batch of morons.

You think I’m kidding when I say morons?

One guy came over and asked my husband how to change a light bulb.




One never mowed the lawn.

One had wild parties every night (and never invited us, which is the definition of rude).

One brought cockroaches to the cul de sac.

One had to be evicted (she may or may not have been a hooker, tough call).

One shot pigeons for fun and left their rotting carcasses in the back yard.

One ran an errand for his wife and never came back.

One painted the house’s exterior trim Pepto Bismol pink.

Yes, in retrospect it sounds entertaining. But trust me, it was anything but.

So when we moved back to Maine and chose to live in the country far away from the morons? When we picked a house where you can barely see your neighbors?





Life was good. Until a dumb ass neighbor moved in to the house behind us.

Have you ever Google Earthed yourself?

This is a shot of our place.




With a giant blue dot for what must have been me with my laptop out on the deck.

We own a smidge over 3 acres and as you can see, mow most of it. Our property line ends a few dozen feet into the woods and the adjoining property runs down to the river. Sadly, it was all one massive piece 2 years before we moved here. Wish we had found it before it was split up… but if wishes came true? I’d be 5’9″, 120 lbs and have a summer home in Tuscany.

The previous owners of our home lived here for 2 years while they built a larger house on the water. They were great…. but moved away after 10 years. Now we have a college frat boy/trust fund baby whose daddy bought him the house (for $750,000), gave him a prosperous business, which he then sold for a fortune and “retired” at 35. He spends all his time playing with numerous expensive toys and traveling on daddy’s dime. Must be nice.

But the reason for this bitchy post?

One of his toys is a giant motor home….. that he parks on the outermost limit of his property so he won’t have to see the damn thing.




That’s us in blue, with our little 3 acres. We own a narrow patch of the woods past the fields….. his house is on the upper left of the picture.

He had all that wooded land in between….




But he parked the stupid thing 2 inches from our property line.




You can’t pick your neighbors… but you can certainly waste 478 words bitching about them.