Down the Road a Piece
I enjoyed a nice Sunday afternoon nap, when I should have been out shoveling snow.
But I wasn’t out shoveling snow, because a couple of neighbors stopped by, leaped out of their pickup, and, using a plastic push-sled and a shovel, helped me shovel. It was all done in about ten minutes.
“I have very little cash on me at the moment,” I said. “I’ll have to go inside and get a check.”
Wayne chuckled and replied, “We don’t want any money. We just saw you out here shoveling and thought we’d stop and help.”
Now there’s neighbors for you.
It was the day after we’d had about two feet of white stuff, both feet piled on top of one another to make it harder to shovel. I don’t mind two feet when the two feet are lying alongside each other.
A neighbor, when we lived up in Danforth, loaned me her Beagle Hound to go rabbit hunting. We entered the woods, the dog took off, I assumed after a snowshoe hare, and I sat on a rock near the trail. And watched the hare bound past followed by the Beagle. I didn’t really want to shoot the bunny, but it was fun to watch them go past two or three times.
It seems that hares run in circles and Beagles follow.
When I grew tired of the sport, I left for home with the Beagle following me instead of following the hare.
It was fun, thanks to a good neighbor.
Also in Danforth, the neighbor across the street phoned me about 5 a.m. to tell me our house was on fire. Looking out the window while he was on the phone, I discovered it was his house on fire, not ours. I told him that and he hung up and the family left the house. The fire department came and extinguished what had started as a chimney fire.
They slept in their house that night. This neighbor, our family and I, would not have slept in our house had it been on fire.
In Swanville, our neighbor loaned me his snowblower, provided I cleared both our driveways. A good neighborly relationship.
In South Paris, as a volunteer I took care of a trail section in the woods just up the road and across the road from another neighbor, this one with a barn and horses. Her neighborliness included allowing me to keep my chain saw in her barn, right across the road from my section of trail. My neighborliness included caring for her half-dozen horses while she was away.
The horses were too neighborly. Each time I entered their paddock to feed them, they would rush at me in their eagerness to show how neighborly they were. Each time, they also bit and kicked at each other to show their unneighborliness to one another and to get the best spot at the feed trough.
I held the bucket up as protection from their unneighborliness to one another, which I didn’t want to spread to my neighborly self.
I didn’t want them to be too neighborly.
During the same snowstorm as the one where our neighbor stopped to help clear our drive, neighbors of a friend across town stopped by with their ATV and plow and cleared his drive.
Back over in South Paris, my daughter’s husband cleared their drive of 22 inches of white stuff.
My daughter reported, “Our people up stairs (their tenants) saw paul working and brought us down two loaves of homemade bread and some cookies! That was nice of them.”
Neighbors who bring food.
That’s the kind of neighbors to have renting an apartment from you.
Milt Gross can be reached for corrections, harassment, or other purposes at email@example.com.
Milton M. Gross Copyright 2013