This post was contributed by a community member. The views expressed here are the author's own.

Health & Fitness

Chapter 9: Our Nice Spring

The property next door had been for sale for a few months and up to June it hadn't sold. It was a little cold in the early spring, and that might have kept people away.

            Except for the restaurant incident, which actually worked out good for me in the points department, our spring was uneventful until June.  Up to that time we worked to clean up the underbrush on some of the property where we wanted a better view of the sunrises.  It was really nice working together fixing our place up.  The birds were singing and we set up a salt lick off from the house to watch the dear come out at dusk.  Even though I don’t follow politics, I definitely liked the low taxes on our property.  We spent the extra money on some flowering trees that Alice wanted and new gravel for our driveway. 

The property next door had been for sale for a few months and up to June it hadn’t sold.  It was a little cold in the early spring, and that might have kept people away.  The first week in June was warm and we noticed more people driving down the road.  One day, in the second week in June, we saw a sold sign go up.  I remember that moment as if it was yesterday, and that’s without looking at my notes.  We walked to the end of our driveway to pick up the mail – me, Alice and Fifi.   Alice had just finished remarking that this was the best we ever had it, and how could it be any better. Then we saw a man nailing a sign up on a tree.

Me: ‘Sold, huh?’

Find out what's happening in Shoreline-Lake Forest Parkwith free, real-time updates from Patch.

Realtor: ‘Yep.’

Me: ‘Who bought it?’

Find out what's happening in Shoreline-Lake Forest Parkwith free, real-time updates from Patch.

Realtor: ‘A guy by the name of Ken Freeman.  Just moved over from the Westside, and wants some open space.  Nice guy, no family, just himself.’

Me: ‘What’s he do?’

Realtor: ‘Retired.  Has a collection of old cars that he’s looking to store here.’

            Now, this sounded nice to me as I’ve always liked old cars.  Having a collector next door that I could talk to would give me something to do when Alice was busy with her activities. 

Me: ‘Will he build a garage to keep them in?’

Realtor: ‘Don’t know, probably.’

Me: ‘When’s this happening?’

Realtor: ‘Next month.’

            So, spring came and with it the squirrels returned to tease Fifi.  As I told you before, one big squirrel in particular seemed to get delight in dancing just out of her reach; prancing and strutting on a low limb.  Fifi tried to act not interested in the squirrel, but I could tell that she was really bothered.  Fifi would turn up her tail and make a big show of casually strolling away from the limb, slowly stretching before she walked away.  She wasn’t fooling me, however. 

Now, some people will tell you that you can’t read much into a dog’s face, but I will beg to differ with them.  I had an Irish setter, Kelby that loved to chase ducks, but of course never could get close enough to catch any.  They’d always fly away.  One day he fell asleep by the edge of a lake that we were sitting by.  Some ducks were feeding along the edge also and didn’t see Kelby. Now, I was watching all of this with interest, as the ducks were only a few feet from his nose and getting closer by the minute. I was tempted to wake Kelby up, but thought better of it as that wouldn’t have been fair to the ducks.  Besides, I was too fascinated to do much of anything but watch.  Then Kelby opened one of his eyes.  I don’t know if he heard or smelled them or just woke up on his own, but the outcome was the same.  He slowly opened the other eye, but never moved a muscle.  Have you ever watched someone wake up and not know where they are, or done it yourself?  I’ve never seen my own face under those circumstances, but I’m sure it looked just like Kelby’s at that moment (minus the doggy ears).  I swear to you that his face at first registered bewilderment, then swiftly changed to an expression that looked to me like pleasant surprise.  The final look was cautious where he seemed to be thinking, “Ducks, right in front of me.  Don’t make any sudden moves.” He lay there for at least a full minute, never moving a muscle.  Then he exploded. I don’t think that ducks have facial expressions, but these particular ducks sure looked surprised.  Kelby stood at the edge of the lake, just watching the ducks scatter in all directions.  Then he turned and looked at me, and if a face ever registered a self satisfied look, his was the face.   I almost offered him a cigarette, but I had given up smoking years before. 

After the experience with Kelby, I thought I pretty much knew what Fifi was thinking about that squirrel.  Her casual indifference was really extreme frustration, and that frustration was written all over her face.  As I alluded to before, that squirrel played a prominent role in Fifi’s final act on this earth.  If Fifi could only have known.

Beside the excitement with animals, the month before our neighbor was to move in was uneventful for us.  We planted the flowering trees, cleared some brush, and enjoyed the spring flowers Alice had set in the fall.  Were we happy? You bet we were, except maybe Fifi, who was letting that squirrel get under her skin.  Who could be unhappy with long, peaceful walks in the evening, beautiful sunsets, nice conversations, and quiet surroundings?  I’d add in our nice babbling brook, but I don’t want to get too sentimental on account of what happened next.

I was at work painting a house in Spokane.  Alice had just returned from shopping in town, and Fifi was feigning indifference to the squirrels as usual. As Alice pulled into the driveway sounds of chain saws filled the air as trees began to fall all over the place.  A large crew was clearing the property next door, or at least taking out all the trees that had any value.  When I got home Alice and Fifi were hiding in the house with the shades drawn, too upset to look out.  Luckily, some of our trees partially blocked our view of what was happening, but we had a clear shot across our meadow.  It wasn’t pretty.  That night, for the first time in months, we skipped our evening walk.

Alice: ‘Do something!’

Me: ‘What?’

Alice: ‘Anything.’

Me: ‘Okay.’

The next day, being Saturday, I walked over and talked to the guys clearing the land.

Me: ‘Nice equipment.’

Them: ‘Does the job.’

Me: ‘Everything going alright?’

Them: ‘That’s what we’re hired for.’

Me: ‘Seems a shame.’

Them: ‘Puts food on the table.’

Me: ‘Gotta eat.’

That was the extent of my “finding out mission” for that day, and it wasn’t long before the next-door property looked like it had been in the path of the eruption of Mt. Saint Helens.  Long rolls of heavy fencing arrived along with another crew.  Damned if they didn’t fence in a whole section of the property that adjoined ours, barbed wire on the top and everything.  I tried to make Alice feel better by suggesting that we could plant tress along our side of the fence to block the view.  That did make her perk up a little, so we went out and bought a hundred small pines.  Although it had helped Alice’s disposition, I wasn’t feeling any better since I was spending our next ten years worth of tax savings on those trees and I needed to save something for my share of the snowplow come winter.  As it turned out, I didn’t really have to worry about winter. Fifi didn’t either, but for different reasons.

We spent the next month planting trees.  They were too small to block any of the view, but would do the job in about ten years.  Just doing something lifted our spirits, but unfortunately that only lasted until the next shock.  It was a Monday, and I was home in the morning. Flat bed trucks started bringing junk cars in next door and dumping them on the ground.  They sure didn’t look like the type of collector cars I pictured.  So, it was another trip next door to shoot the bull. 

Me: ‘How’s it going?’

Truck driver: ‘Can’t complain.’

Me: ‘Lots of cars.’

Truck driver: ‘Lots more to come.  All the way from North Bend.’

Me: ‘North Bend?’

Just in case any of you readers are not Washingtonians of either persuasion, I should add that North Bend is in Western Washington, just before I-90 starts to climb up Snoqualmie Pass.

Truck driver: ‘Heard talk that he was forced out by too many regulations.’

Me: ‘Oh.’

Truck driver: ‘No problem like that here.  We can dump them anyplace.’

It crossed my mind that the truck driver would get along with the cook I met the night of my first and last steak dinner.  I almost suggested that restaurant to the driver as a good place for cheap specials, but my conscience got the better of me.  After all, he was just a working stiff doing his job.  When I met the owner I figured I would suggest the restaurant to him instead.

For two weeks the cars kept coming, one load after another.  They were piled up several cars deep along the fence dividing our properties, so that I had to revise upward the estimate of how many years it would take to grow the trees high enough to block the view.  I was running out of things to cheer Alice up with.  I even broke down and offered to take her on a trip to see her sister in Arizona.  I thought getting away for a while would be good for both of us.  As it turns out, the worst was yet to come.

We’ve removed the ability to reply as we work to make improvements. Learn more here

The views expressed in this post are the author's own. Want to post on Patch?

More from Shoreline-Lake Forest Park