Bear it

Yesterday I was introduced to my neighbor.

She was a broad, sunny woman named Michelle in a pink peasant blouse. I hate peasant blouses. She drove her crossover SUV up the driveway, got out of her car, and started to walk toward me all without any greeting. I was on my way back from the chicken coop, still in my pajamas with a water bucket in my hand, and finally, pulled by the awkwardness of the confrontation and the realization that I could never overpower anyone with a plastic water bucket, I said "hello". And she said "I just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood." And with that, my heart filled with love. What a wonderful gesture. Followed immediately by, "Yesterday I saw a bear." And pointed to the corner of my garage, the place of the bear sighting. If there's one thing that scares me more than change, and the dark, its bears. Because bears smell fear. She looked me up and down, and held her hand out at shoulder height, "It was about this tall. Maybe 150 pounds. But when I drove toward it, it ran away." Oh, good. I was considered about its ability to run. "It was probably looking for garbage." She said as she slowly, judgmentally, scanned my yard. As if my yard was a perfect place to find garbage. I look behind me at a heaping ancient burn pile that was my back yard. Sticking out from the soot were aerosol cans, insulation, half-burned books, and other trash left behind by the previous owner.
I'm probably going to have to clean that up.



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I was picking up feed at the local store, and there was a middle-aged man in front of me in line. On a rack hanging by the counter were pamphlets on how to best raise your live birds. Feeding and Breeding mostly. "How much for the 4 foot picket?" He asked. Erskine replied "89 cents". 89 cents, I thought. What a bargain, what can you get these days for less than a dollar? A four foot picket. As I marveled at the beauty of local business, the man proceeded to haggle. Unsuccessfully. "I'll give you 85." "It's 89." Erskine said with a tone of finality. The man grumbled something about highway robbery. My 50 pounds of chicken feed: $6.50, I didn't haggle.