Tangerine Tree Goes Splat

I should listen to Maggie more. She started barking in the wee hours of the morning. I was up, but in my jammies, so I just told her to hush and go to sleep. I heard some voices outside--male? juvenile?--but didn't bother to go look because I often hear voices outside; we do live on a corner, after all.

Later in the morning I looked out the window to see one of my beloved citrus trees lying in the middle of the street, the broken shards of its not-cheap ceramic pot scattered all around. Growing citrus fruit in Chicagoland may seem like folly, but they are actually doing pretty well. They make me happy whenever I step out on the front porch to water them. I'll have to bring them inside once the weather turns, but that's okay. I'll find room.

I took my broom and dustpan out to clean up the mess, and was relieved to see that the tree was all right (although the ripening tangerines were gone) and that they didn't snatch my garden gnome.

I was going to take the vandalism personally, since just last week our Buddha was stolen. Feeling targeted and crabby, I went to the garage to get another pot to put the tree in and discovered my neighbors' flowers in the middle of our driveway, broken shards of pottery dangerously close to our car. So it was most likely just kids coming down the alley, smashing pots as they went along. Still, at four o'clock in the morning, I do have to wonder where their parents were.

We called the police to file yet another report with them. *Sigh.* There are better things to be doing on a Sunday afternoon.

But the thing that made me really sad was when a woman stopped by to chat with me while I was cleaning the shards from the middle of the street. She suggested that the house was too exposed on the corner, and I should think about planting even more trees to block the view from the street. I planned on that, anyway, but I don't want to feel like I have to do it.

Grrr. Kids.

Sunday Evening Update:

Wah!

My beloved comic strip For Better or For Worse just wrapped. I actually got misty at the final Sunday edition. I can't believe I've been reading this strip on and off for close to three decades. Thanks to Lynn Johnston for many a laugh and bittersweet moment over the years.