To My Snippy, Cowardly, Anonymous Neighbor

It's not exactly true that I don't care whether you like my front yard or not. I'd rather you did. It makes me a little sad that you don't. but it makes me sadder that your life is so barren you have to latch onto this to worry about.

In the blog you, anonymously and cowardly, comment on, I mention again and again the beautiul things happening in my garden, things which you are, at any time, welcome to climb the stairs and see. But you don't care about that. If you attended the nativity you'd be bitching about the ox dung on the stable floor.

The terrace is not ugly to me. It is not exactly beautiful, but I see it as a work in prgress, half way between being planted as I like and being planred as God likes. Wild vegetable profusion is a necessary temporary step to prevent erosion.

I have asked my neighbors who are near enough to have a vote, and none of them minds. What makes you think you have a vote? Here's my suggestion: if there's something you don't want to look at, don't look at it. Pass on. Avert your glance. Carry a photo of yourself to look at for when you fear all around you may be unlovely.

Finally, friend, the secret and the anonymous instantly negate observations which might otherwide have had some use. Keep it to yourself, or announce yourself. unless you want me knocking on doors.

Just wait until I get those pink flamingos up--