I’m sitting here at my desk pondering the neighborhood. We have new neighbors that moved in across the street, and I didn’t take them a plate of baked goods, like normal.
The front window is open, so the cat has more room to lay in it. Our Google mini is perched on the window sill, and when the cat gets excited over front yard friends, his tail twitches and hits the Google mini, increasing the volume. I’ve learned to say, ‘Hey Google, volume down’, before asking much.
Where we live there are no street lights.
When we first moved into this house, my daughter’s father sent out a landscape lighting team to light up our ginormous oak tree. The guys came out and installed down lights to light out path from the driveway to the front door.
Last week, while driving out of the neighborhood, I saw the new neighbors in their front yard. They’ve been planting trees, doing some landscaping, and were so proud of what they’ve accomplished so far. I complimented their hard work, but was taken back by what they said next.
Your front yard is our goals.
I had no idea. They told me they sit outside at night on their front porch, and gaze at my lit up tree. It’s their yard goals.
As I drove away, I made a note to check the timer of the lights. They were set to turn off at midnight, but if someone’s enjoying them, I’ll leave them on. Once home, I reset the timer of the lights from dusk until dawn thinking, ‘welcome to the neighborhood.’
I hope it brings them comfort in their new neighborhood. Now, I know what Mama meant when she said, “I’ll leave the light on.”