The neighborhood I live in is most enjoyable. Our one block long street consists of about 20 garden homes, small houses with gated side yards and patio space between them. All are nicely kept and more than half of these little yards are gardened intensely, so it is a modest but pretty street. My daughter Cheryl owns one of the houses and so is near by for much visiting, (and my daughter Beth is just one block away around a corner.) We have several active writers, teachers, and artists as well as active retired folk who volunteer in important activities. We look after one another in thoughtful ways, and most of us have exchanged door keys and emergency information with a few neighbors. I fed Vicki's cat when she went to Italy last year, Cathy drove a neighbor to have her hair done yesterday, and so on. We are farther apart than apartment dwellers, and none can see into or hear much at all from another's yard, still we live closer than most in suburbia.
We come together on driveway aprons and in front yards sipping wine in small spontaneous groups often, and in planned block parties occasionally. Last evening was one such. I took a large salad, Cheryl took a bean dish, there were wine and water and iced tea to choose from and a dozen delicious casseroles, and Martin's home barbequed buffalo wings, which he came home early to cook for us all. There were deviled eggs and other salad dishes, few deserts, just the pies and a cake called tres leches, a rich concoction my family often serves. We were 26 in all, down from 31 at the last block party in July. Many stayed and talked till after dark having a good time together. It was a special evening to welcome a new neighborhood couple. Norman Rockwell was there in spirit.
