Outside of of my neighbors to the East, this property on the far east end of our street, Arbutus, is infuriatingly gorgeous. It obviously was owned by some lovely eclectic couple once upon a time. It fairly reeks with a crooked sense of humor. The mansard roof. The porch, and somewhat rambling look, but none the less feeling of compactness that both the property in totum and house share. The previous picture of the Peony with her doggone ants was taken on the left side of this yard. So was the picture with the bright red Samara from a red maple above this car. The Rhododendra is the largest I've seen since the Appalachian Trail. The daffodils popping out of the grass and sloping grass mixed with a curved crushed gravel drive that sweeps down to an old and now unused basement garage... I know, most people probably just wouldn't care, but to me this little place is heaven on earth. My friends think it's too noisy, since it's right on Atwater. I like the sound of cars. It's like the smell of manure. It reminds you that your life is not a dream. And I really like the beauty of the entire property at night. Sometimes when I walk over to the school to play guitar, or just am ambling around with a friend I walk down to that end of my street and never once have I missed the golden glint off the property of the sodium lights and the Hopperesque resultant atmosphere of the porch. And guess what? I'm free to have a place just like it for myself. In the grand scheme of things pleasures like this are a dime a dozen.