Mrs. Bohannon, an elderly widow that lived down at the end of my block, died several weeks ago. Shortly after the death, her daughter, who hadn't visited in years, held an estate sale, emptying the woman's house of all the novelties and furniture her mother collected over the years. The daughter wasn't there for more than a week before she had the house sold to some investment company who immediately started to modernize the one story brick home.
They brought in a large dumpster and filled it with plasterboard, tiles, and other waste. And while carpenters were gutting the inside landscapers were transforming the outside. Today they had dug up a gigantic bush that had once stood proudly at the corner of the sidewalk and driveway. It had long since died.
Mrs. Bohannon, while she was alive, would take such precious care of that bush, having it fertilized once a week and watering it everyday. She knew it was quite fragile, but did everything she could to keep it from dying, that is until she did herself. For the last couple weeks of her life the only activity the neighborhood would see from her house would be around noon when Mrs. Bohannon would feebly walk with the hose to that bush to water it. When she stopped that we all knew she was in trouble. By the time the leaves on the bush turned yellow, she was already in the hospital.
I used to hate that bush. When I was younger I would mow her lawn for $5, while the rest of the neighborhood paid me $10. Mrs. Bohannon would also yell at me after I was finished that I damaged her plants and was killing her bush. This was no the case. That bush was a haven for wasps and I would avoid going near it at all times.
Once while mowing near the bush I got stung on the shin. Far beyond irritated, I turned the mower around and went after the bush. Mrs. Bohannon always watched me from her window, she never trusted me, and this time she came rushing out with her cane yelling for me to stop. The mower muffled her words and I didn't notice her until she hit me in the other shin with her cane. After that I never mowed her lawn nor talked to her again, and of course I wasn't paid.
Today, I took a walk passed her house and stopped by the large uprooted bush. The landscapers had clipped most of the branches and roots so it was hard to distinguish one from the other. It looked like an explosion of limbs caught in a stand-still. There was some soil trapped in the center, forming a ring dividing the roots from the branches. The limbs were rigid enough to support the rest of the bush, causing it to stand over four feet from bottom to top.
I saw a ladybug crawling along a limb away from the center. I tracked it for a while as it made its way toward where the limb was clipped. It stopped at the end and seemed reluctant to either turn around or fly away. I decided to help it out and flicked it off the limb, sending it soaring towards the dumpster. Somehow this little insect got its bearings and started to flutter its wings and it began to fly. I watched it until it was too far away and too small to see. Then I went on my way.
They brought in a large dumpster and filled it with plasterboard, tiles, and other waste. And while carpenters were gutting the inside landscapers were transforming the outside. Today they had dug up a gigantic bush that had once stood proudly at the corner of the sidewalk and driveway. It had long since died.
Mrs. Bohannon, while she was alive, would take such precious care of that bush, having it fertilized once a week and watering it everyday. She knew it was quite fragile, but did everything she could to keep it from dying, that is until she did herself. For the last couple weeks of her life the only activity the neighborhood would see from her house would be around noon when Mrs. Bohannon would feebly walk with the hose to that bush to water it. When she stopped that we all knew she was in trouble. By the time the leaves on the bush turned yellow, she was already in the hospital.
I used to hate that bush. When I was younger I would mow her lawn for $5, while the rest of the neighborhood paid me $10. Mrs. Bohannon would also yell at me after I was finished that I damaged her plants and was killing her bush. This was no the case. That bush was a haven for wasps and I would avoid going near it at all times.
Once while mowing near the bush I got stung on the shin. Far beyond irritated, I turned the mower around and went after the bush. Mrs. Bohannon always watched me from her window, she never trusted me, and this time she came rushing out with her cane yelling for me to stop. The mower muffled her words and I didn't notice her until she hit me in the other shin with her cane. After that I never mowed her lawn nor talked to her again, and of course I wasn't paid.
Today, I took a walk passed her house and stopped by the large uprooted bush. The landscapers had clipped most of the branches and roots so it was hard to distinguish one from the other. It looked like an explosion of limbs caught in a stand-still. There was some soil trapped in the center, forming a ring dividing the roots from the branches. The limbs were rigid enough to support the rest of the bush, causing it to stand over four feet from bottom to top.
I saw a ladybug crawling along a limb away from the center. I tracked it for a while as it made its way toward where the limb was clipped. It stopped at the end and seemed reluctant to either turn around or fly away. I decided to help it out and flicked it off the limb, sending it soaring towards the dumpster. Somehow this little insect got its bearings and started to flutter its wings and it began to fly. I watched it until it was too far away and too small to see. Then I went on my way.
posted by T.S. Idiot at 3:07 PM
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