This morning, I woke to a very odd dream.
I ran outside to the end of the driveway because my elderly neighbor had two men in trench coats and hats (looking like gangsters or crooked businessmen) standing with him where my mailbox used to be. They had directed a diorama type guy (not moving, not really human) dig two huge holes in my yard to put a sign up, for keeping the trucks from coming down the road.
Agitated, I asked, “What are you doing?”
The men ignored me. I continued to ask, becoming more agitated each time, and they snickered.
I said, “I’m calling the Sheriff!”
They looked at me as if I were a mosquito –
Suddenly, they’re in my yard, about ten feet in, 25 feet down the driveway, and two new, deep holes had been dug by Diorama man, wouldn’t move or speak and seemed plastic. I could see how beautiful my soil is. I was very upset.
Now, I’m shouting at the snickering men, the neighbor man, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”
Neighbor man, the only person in full color, said, “We’re putting in a sign to keep the big trucks from coming in here.”
I told them to stop and shouted again, “I’m calling the Sheriff!”
Diorama guy stayed frozen but I knew he was aware. The drab gangster-style men chuckled together and mimicked me under their breath.
With determination, the old man hovered over the deep holes that Diorama guy dug, looking in, and I didn’t matter at all.
I was very upset and ran to the house to make my call.
END OF DREAM
On every side of me, save one, I have property line disputes. I wasn’t made aware of the depth of disputes in this area. If we claim our land, we make enemies. If we don’t claim our land – I don’t know.
No trucks come down this road, except for the power company, UPS or tree trimmers.
Over time, land lines altered, assumed, purchased, transferred or adversely possessed and easements created. Old fences with barbed wire installed by early loggers, though arbitrarily placed, as this “road” was a leg for the railway during early logging. Some think that the old fences are property lines.
Specifically, there is an easement in our driveway for neighbor to enter his parking area in front of his door. The easement put into effect as a courtesy by his son-in-law before son-in-law sold this property to the next owner, who is a close friend of our neighbor’s granddaughter. The easement doesn’t run the entire length of the driveway anymore, as the “close friend” gave a pie shaped piece of land that was part of this property, to the elderly neighbor, because his family ‘wanted’ it.
Our mailbox post has a platform with two mailboxes on it. Years ago, I bought two new mailboxes and stenciled them, and Mark mounted them. If I were to guess why our neighbor has his mailbox on our property, I’d say it was something his son-in-law did, for convenience. I’d prefer to see this disappear.
The easement is a problem for me. My girl and I plan to spray paint the property line, find where the easement ends, in the driveway. I can see a surveyor in the future.
Perhaps the latest trigger for my dream is when old man turned off the little drip into a bowl in his front yard. Birds and other wildlife depended on this little water source and now, it’s off and he tipped the bowl over. I saw mourning doves, cats and robins all attempting to drink when he “fixed” it, and have since put my bowl of water out for the animals needs.
I realize that I will have to call the Sheriff when it’s time to face the Wicked Witch of the North, with that particular property line. She’s already told me where to go… and she’s not the only one to the north, who’s expressed anger toward me, for being on my place.
I want my space, to live my life without complications. I’ve had plenty of heartache and turmoil in life, and want no more. I want to close myself in, invite the wildlife. To have my animals, my family, my trees and shrubs and fruits, to breathe the air and go outside in my pajamas, harvest my fruit, graze my horse, carry my bunnies out, without an audience.
My girl and I have talked about putting SLOW DOWN signs on the roadway. The road in front of each of our houses is part of our property, and everyone that lives further down the road, has an easement, of which we’ve twice been reminded. Why? I object to speeding here There are baby quail, cats, birds who are often on the road. I’m puzzled as to why anyone would live here and not care.
I’ve become increasingly disheartened by the lack of awareness and the disconnect people have to what’s going on in the natural world. Here, especially here, I had hoped that people would care. Most don’t.
This isn’t a neighborhood at all. There’s no interaction, no connection.
Is this a sign of the times? Does this happen everywhere, or do neighborhoods still exist?
Do people care about the trees, plants? Do they care about each other?
Where is my resolve? A Tree Grows in Brooklyn…