A Quiet Morning

The morning was cloudless, the sky cerulean, the air still. Spike has not left my side since I left him in bed and moved myself to the guest bedroom away from the snoring man...when I got up, Spike was at the bedroom door looking reproachfully at me.

We went for a walk down to the end of the street to check out the burned timber cutting. Florrie's lot, cleared of the debris of the house, is now covered with building high mounds of black branches. A few of the flowers from her garden were trying to make a comeback only to be buried in charcoal once again. The hollow hulk of the enormous oak that once shaded the house still lies on the place where the garage used to be. It seems appropriate that it remain there, sentinel witness to the conflagration that destroyed so much.

Across the street we talked to the neighbor whose daughter got married last week. He was watering  flowers near an emerald green lawn and spreading oak tree, antidotes to the devastation across the street. 

Sometimes there are so many trucks on the street that going for a walk there seems unwise, but a Sunday morning hush had fallen over the neighborhood and we carried on past the swimming pool/cabaña project on the corner which has been going on for over a year. Their fence burned down giving a clear view into the backyard which formerly yielded only glimpses hinting at what could possibly have been going on for so long. Mounds of dirt and mud and compost have been turned into a big swimming pool surrounded by concrete deck and lawn. Work remains to be done on the massive building which appears to be some sort of pool house but could almost be a granny unit or a guest house.

Carrying on up Los Alamos Road past another cleared lot and some freshly mowed golden fields, we checked out the half finished house above us and were none the wiser as to what they could possibly have been doing inside for so long with whining drills or sanders .Why would you drill or sand the inside of a house with no windows or doors and an incomplete roof? From the outside it looks as unfinished and abandoned as ever...a complete mystery.

Down through our own field we unlocked the gate and checked out the vegetable garden. Lo and behold...tomatoes! They look unscathed next to the pepper plants which have been stripped of every single leaf by the ground squirrels. Perhaps John is hoping they will be able to make some sort of comeback, for he has surrounded them with chicken wire*. 

It was pleasant up there under the arbor and we stayed up there for quite awhile enjoying the view,* unscathed by burned trees or umbrellas trapped in a giant box for want of a hammer drill and a person competent in its use.