Both sides now

 

Late summer garden scenes. Lovely carefree sedums starting to turn color. Plums and a jungle of green tomatoes. It rained overnight-- how nice.

Our next door neighbor, who watches everything, rushed over after Mr. Nguyen cut the hedge and said "he's getting better at it every year." One of those odd compliments, but it does look pretty good. Of course she wanted to know how much it cost and wants him to cut the top of their gigantic laurel, if the price is right. Her husband artistically trims the sides each fall, one noisy leaf at a time. It looks like perfection, for a little while. These days I'm into good enough.

It's noisy on both sides now. They're finishing the school addition across the street, and across the alley, the big ADU under construction since before the pandemic, putting in a parking area that requires lots of pounding. All construction seems to require lots of pounding. Or nail guns.

There was an article in the NYT recently about how "quiet" is an economic class issue and a luxury. Rich people expect it as a given in their homes and neighborhoods. Lower income areas are noisy and folks are uncomfortable with silence. Really? I don’t buy that.  We're neither rich nor poor, but quiet is lovely. I read somewhere that in Bill Gate's big old Medina house, the bedroom was lined with lead for sound stage silence at night. Go figure.

That's about all the news. Amanda and Tom are here this weekend, having a good time in the big city. I'm making a chicken dinner for everyone Saturday night, and looking forward to that. John and I haven't seen the girls for a few weeks.