(The ongoing renovation across the street from me has been quiet and discreet. I notice the company's van out front and occasional appliances left for pickup, but none of the banging and cursing that accompany the new house across from the Geckos, or the new house a-building out my back window.)
The Indian Gardener's slow rebuild has reached the point of tearing out the old concrete walk and replacing it with interlocking stone that the IG's son is going to regret the minute it starts to snow. The front garden has once again been leveled flat and all the plants removed; given that various weeds and bushes came back up within a week of the last raze, I'm sure there's mighty fertile soil in the IG's yard, and no surprise. Frankly the house looked a lot better when it had a twelve by eight foot jungle of flowers in front of it, and bright pink front steps and door. Homey and loved. Am not looking forward to the landscaping that's clearly planned.
Prof & Mrs Islamic Studies are pruning their magnolia tree, which is a good thing, because it's trying to top the second floor. To be precise, their son is pruning the tree, lost up in the branches eight feet overhead. Wish R could be persuaded to turn his energies to my hedge, but R has gone from rambunctious boy to serious student and prefers not.