the neighborhood | The Oasis at Four Queen Palms

The eastern sky was colored a bright pinkish-orange as I looked across the meadow behind The Oasis at Four Queen Palms. Happy for a new day, I headed down to the kitchen to pour myself a cup of cold coffee with milk – my version of café au lait. With cup in hand, I walked to the window overlooking the terrace, and by this time, the sun was just over the horizon, looking like a fiery orange ball. The pond sparkled as though a million diamonds danced upon the surface. A lone hawk circled high above. And there, the day began.

I received a strange survey of sorts (I think that’s what it was) through my Goodreads account; a neighbor asked if I still live here at The Oasis. After answering her, she wrote back with a statement that I wrote a book or two recently. (As if I didn’t know that fact!) So how did I answer that? Well, I replied to her with a, “Imagine that!” I heard back with a strange response – “Happy trails!” she wrote. I suspect I won’t hear back from her for another two years, because that was the last time something like this happened with her, when she messaged me about her “handsomest father who ever lived” and comments about her neighbors, none of whom I know. I don’t get it. I suspect I won’t hear from her for another two years, because that was the last time she contacted me. I never even met her in person.

Something like that used to bug me, but now I just laugh it off. People are people, and I’m not going to guess or psychoanalyze their motives. That sort of “hit and run” action seems to be the norm these days. It’s much like the “hit and run” Best Friend and I encountered last autumn by a relative, and *Poof!* she disappeared as quickly as she popped up.

The news is much like that, too, in the current news cycle. One day, we learn about spy balloons, the next day it’s the hubbub of a mass murder, and the next is the screaming of a post-Constitutional America. News today seems to be more like attention-getting than unbiased reporting as it’s supposed to be.

Ah, well, that is ancient history.

This is the new world – the bombardment of spewing about events, screaming deceit, ginning up violence.

Everybody has an opinion, but who is really listening?

As ever,

The other morning, Best Friend told me that when he went out to the mailbox, he was greeted by a stranger in sandals, socks, shorts, and a wide opened bath robe.

It was an odd vision, I’m sure. Yet, I’m not surprised since the guy who we nicknamed “Cousin Eddie” was in the driveway of our next-door neighbor who has the oddest people living with him – like Turban and Lady Godiva. We think they rent rooms from him – The Wild One – and at first, we thought Cousin Eddie was a new renter. But after a week, we didn’t notice him around, so he might have been a visitor.

The Wild One, our neighbor who owns the house, is a snowbird. That is, he spends time here from October to April, then trucks his way back to the backwoods of northern Wisconsin from May to September. He totes his Harley between homes in his pickup truck, and every day we hear him start up the hog and zoom off, only to return late in the day. And if he’s home, it’s pretty much guaranteed that we’ll hear him using his jig saw, grinding rust off of his patio table for hours, or running some sort of electrical tool. Inside his house, he has several mounted animal heads, such as deer and bear, and a pool table in his living room.

Turban is one of his renters who enjoys sitting in the driveway and talking on the phone. She used to wear a turban, and though she doesn’t anymore, our nickname for her stuck.

Lady Godiva was the other renter who was waiting for her house to be built. I’m not sure why we called her Lady Godiva, but I’m sure there was a good reason.

All I can say is that when The Wild One returns to Wisconsin, the neighborhood will be much quieter, and hopefully, no men standing in the driveway with an opened bathrobe.

As ever,

The Oasis at Four Queen Palms

Gracious Living at The Oasis.

Category Archives: the neighborhood

Hit and Run.

Cousin Eddie’s Bathrobe.