But, I digress. Back to my story: I don’t think that I’m discriminatory. Truly. But when my newest neighbours moved in last week, I lost it.
When we moved to the end of the road three years ago, I looked forward to a quiet, country life, away from the noise of people and progress, with enough distance from neighbours that I’d look forward to our visits.
We started to set up a yard – trees, flower beds, and lawn. It’s been a back-breaking, thankless job. The harsh winters finished off many trees and made the perennials ‘annuals’. This summer is dry, and very windy. However, we just keep working at it, re-placing trees and perennials that don’t make it, knowing that although we won’t experience the shade of the trees, someone will…sometime…
The lawn is finally filling in and looks green when/if it rains. It’s almost good enough to enjoy with our little granddaughter. You know – frolic and play – if this grammy can frolic after all the work…
But…my new neighbours don’t seem to care. They moved in waaaay too close, but it’s the construction of their new ‘digs’ (pun intended) that has me upset.
Photo credit: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gopher_(animal)
Just when I got rid of the last ones, and filled in their hole,
I found that overnight two more families moved in.
And they are not ‘greeners’ – the other place wasn’t good enough for them; they built their own homes. All without even checking the property line.
If they stayed on their side of the fence, I’d be fine. But they don’t – they crowd in on my side and tic me off.
I come from a long line of expert marksmen; my grandfather, uncle, father, mother, and brother always hit their marks. Apparently, I was adopted. None of that precision found its way to my genes.
So far, I’ve shot almost two boxes of shells and hit only one lousy gopher. I had to laugh when I read the warning on the shell box,
The manufacturers obviously hadn’t considered me when they dreamed up that line!
When our neighbour (the good kind) came over with his seven-year-old and hit ‘seven out of eight’ I was ecstatic (if not a tad jealous). How can a kid be such a crack shot?
This neighbourhood problem is becoming an obsession. I wake every morning and walk to the gun cabinet (even before I make the coffee!)
After a very long stretch of missing, I told my husband I was going to start aiming at larger things just so I could hit something.
I notice he’s becoming very well-behaved…
Ah well…such is life at the end of the road.
If you are anywhere close by, and have weapons of any kind, come on over. I will thank you, my lawn will thank you, and my frolicking granddaughter will thank you, too.