Neighbours

Six neighbours adjoin our place.  Only one has got a really soft garden.  He digs it often and grows vegetables.  I help with the digging.  I like the nicely smoothed out bits.  F used to grow vegetables at the old house, but not here.  Here the garden is covered in chopped straw stuff and grows flowers for the bees.  I prefer the flowers; there are lots of places to hide and of course my weed is among the flowers.  Apparently the bees like my weed too.  (See I told you it was good.)  I can dig in the straw and compost (F calls is mulch) if I feel like digging, but I still check out the garden next door sometimes too.  They don’t have a cat supervising for them and they leave the door of their glasshouse open.  Anyone could go in there.

Another of our neighbours has tall trees; tall trees with branches right down to the ground all around his garden. F doesn’t like his trees; they shade the house and their roots break up the drive.   I love his trees.  I can hide under them and go all the way round to the busy road.  I watch birds from under those trees and from the roof of his shed.  He brings coffee over to our house sometimes and Mr B does computer things for him.  They never ask me even though I know about computers.

Near the back, a neighbouring yard has small yappy dogs.  I sit on the fence and torment them.  It makes them froth and their humans shout at them.

Further up the lane is a neighbour with another nice soft garden.  That Mrs Neighbour tries to entice me when I visit but I’m wary of humans outside my own garden.  I saw Mr B giving some of my honey to the neighbours with the nice soft gardens.  They lend him ladders to that he can paint the house ......... and get me down from the roof.