I just have to sing the praises of my crazy little neighborhood. We're not Georgetown or Park Slope or Beacon Hill. We're three streets of little houses and duplexes built in 1940. Some are owners, some renters, some section 8 housing. There are retired and active military, gay boys and lesbians, Bolivians, African Americans, Ethiopians, you name it, we're here.
This morning one neighbor popped over to ask me if I wanted a ride to work. Did I? Tonight we're dogsitting for German girl's sister, who lives across the street from us and is out of town. When I arrived home from work, neighbors brought over treats for the dogs and a big armful of this lilac from their garden. Can't you just smell them? I hope you have a vaseful of your own soon. This is heaven: this hood, these flowers and this hot spring night.
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