This morning (11 a.m.), I was outraged to discover to find two city workers planting saplings on the embankment in front of my house. I ran out in my pajamas to confront them.
"What are you doing?" I asked. "We're planting crepe myrtles," they replied. "But that's private property!" I replied. "It's a park strip," they replied. "The city owns park strips." "But that can't be true," I replied. "Several years ago, when the sidewalk needed repair, the city charged me for it." The smiled and said: "Yes, they did." "So, the park strip is my property!" I said. "No, it belongs to the city," they replied.
I could have sworn the city maps showed me owning all the land to the street. It's mine! Mine! Mine! Mine! But since there was no surveyor anywhere in sight, I changed the subject. "Who's going to water the trees?" I asked. To my great surprise, they said, "Oh, the city will. A truck will come around and water them periodically, at least for the first two years, until they get a firm foothold." They added "Yeah, remember, these trees are expensive." I mulled it over and said, "Well, I'll add water too. The southern exposure is hard on trees here. OK, carry on!"
In the Nineties, Katherine planted saplings here, but the location is brutal for trees, and the trees soon died. The location is bad for grass too, or any plants that require water. The sloped southern exposure guarantees elevated summertime temperatures and an unquenchable thirst for any living thing unfortunate enough to be there. Even if everyone cooperates, these trees may die too. But if the city is dead-set in its madness, I'll do my part to help.
Carry on!
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