The landscaping went well.  Until the Bark.  The little garden was four mounds with darling little plants, most with blossoms.  The white fence, liberated from it's juniper-dom, was revealed and looked sparkly and clean.  The little birch tree danced in the breeze, free at last.  Then a truck came and dumped two mountains of bark in the street and the landscaper lifted it in his shovel into the wheelbarrow, and wheeled it around dumping, BARK, BARK, BARK in a kind of runic arc, all over the garden.  The little plants and birch tree were swallowed up by BROWN.  Brown here, brown there, brown in the ground, brown in your eyes, brown in your feet, brown all over the yard, the BROWN BARK took over my house.

Then I was over it.  Then I couldn't sleep thinking about it.  Then I put rocks all over it.  Then the rocks made me sick so I took them away.  Maybe it's okay now.  Maybe I just have to wait until the plants grow larger.  Maybe it's not that important.  Is it?  Is it?  Is it?

Hello!  Here I am.  Earlier today I was driving down Kimball.  The light at 126 turned red, so I slowed and stopped, but the car behind me kept going, ran blantantly through the red light.  Heeeey, crazy person! I was in my car alone.  There was no one to share it with.  Then another car--a black Lexus with dark windows--pulled up next to me.  I looked over at the guy.  He looked at me.  I could barely see him through the dark glass.  He was pointing ahead.  He was pointing to the car that had run the red light.  I mouthed the words "I know!" and lifted my hands in a "What the heck was she thinking" gesture.  He laughed and lifted his hands too.  Yeah! A moment shared.

The landscape:  What the heck was I thinking?  Are you pointing at me? Am I the crazy person?  Or are we both laughing at the car zooming away?  Ha ha, what a funny yard!