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I would describe my neighborhood as an eclectic little island amidst a forest of high density cookie cutter condos, townhouses, and apartment buildings. It is a dead-end (not a cul de sac) block polyglot of single-story houses ranging from old farm houses -- one still used its original well for water until a couple of years ago -- when the area was primarily orchards to the early 60's, each a different style. The neighbor directly across the street is a widow dating from the agricultural days; a fellow Portagee from the early days when the Portuguese dominated the community. Alas, the ones I knew best, kitty corner across the street, moved to Seattle a few years ago to be near their grandkid. The rest are an assortment of Inidian, Pakistanian, and other Asian on our little island whom I barely know enough to wave and say hi to -- more of an age gap than a cultural one.
Over the side-fence, which separates them from our little island, are a couple of old farm houses on a sprawling over-sized lot, and what I presume is an old fruit shed from the orchard days in continuing stages of decay. It is owned by a Chinese developer who had plans to place several town houses on the site until the city told him he would have to build our dead-end into a cul de sac for access and discontinue access from the thoroughfare they currently have. So instead he has rented the places as is to some Latinos, who have put in large canopies, BBQs, outdoor speakers, tables and chairs for mini-outdoor fiestas on holidays and many weekends, as well as sheds to take care of the assortment of work trucks and other vehicles parked there during the week. So I often am serenaded with musica latina and the festive sounds of people having a good time. Which actually is a nice periodic break from the solitude of living alone, and they are good in honoring the city noise curfew of 10 p.m.
And then I am less than a mile from the juncture of two major railways at what was the original western terminus of the Transcontinental Railroad, so at night -- more than during the day -- I have the lonesome wail of the train whistle (well, horn these days) that has followed me wherever I have lived from rustic, to rural, to urban, to suburban. And the sound of the geese flying over from one lake to the other. And the night critters who visit, from raccoons to bob cats, including opossum who lives under my closet and the family of skunks who once set up housekeeping under the neighbor's pool deck. And hawks circling overhead. All reminders of my childhood, surrounded by high density urbanization.
Eclectic and diverse, both of which I like.
Over the side-fence, which separates them from our little island, are a couple of old farm houses on a sprawling over-sized lot, and what I presume is an old fruit shed from the orchard days in continuing stages of decay. It is owned by a Chinese developer who had plans to place several town houses on the site until the city told him he would have to build our dead-end into a cul de sac for access and discontinue access from the thoroughfare they currently have. So instead he has rented the places as is to some Latinos, who have put in large canopies, BBQs, outdoor speakers, tables and chairs for mini-outdoor fiestas on holidays and many weekends, as well as sheds to take care of the assortment of work trucks and other vehicles parked there during the week. So I often am serenaded with musica latina and the festive sounds of people having a good time. Which actually is a nice periodic break from the solitude of living alone, and they are good in honoring the city noise curfew of 10 p.m.
And then I am less than a mile from the juncture of two major railways at what was the original western terminus of the Transcontinental Railroad, so at night -- more than during the day -- I have the lonesome wail of the train whistle (well, horn these days) that has followed me wherever I have lived from rustic, to rural, to urban, to suburban. And the sound of the geese flying over from one lake to the other. And the night critters who visit, from raccoons to bob cats, including opossum who lives under my closet and the family of skunks who once set up housekeeping under the neighbor's pool deck. And hawks circling overhead. All reminders of my childhood, surrounded by high density urbanization.
Eclectic and diverse, both of which I like.