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rejectomorph

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Beastly [Jan. 16th, 2017|10:53 pm]
rejectomorph
The fact that the day was almost mild has made this evening's chill seem more intense. There is damp in the air, forming vague halos around lights. It's pretty, but pretty uncomfortable.

There is construction going on in the middle lot of the three on the block behind my house. A new garage and probably workshop is being erected behind the double-wide mobile home on the lot. The garage will be more substantial than the dwelling. But the project further diminishes the fading rusticity of the neighborhood. Thirty years ago— hell, ten years ago— deer were frequent visitors to that block. Now the three yards are all fenced, and no sensible deer would venture up the dead-end alley behind them.

It's been a long time since I've seen a deer on my street as well, but that might be more because I seldom go out to the front yard anymore. I've grown accustomed to hanging out in the back yard because that's where most of the feral cats gather. Only one of the three cats who used to frequent the font yard is still around, and she spends most of her time in the garage.

Raccoons still come around, though. I see them fairly often, and at least once or twice a week I can count on them overturning one or more of the feral cats' water bowls. It's been quite a while since I've smelled a skunk, but I expect they'll be back in spring.

I've spent much of the day trying to catch up with all that email stacking up in my online inbox. I still haven't gotten a client installed on the new(ish) computer. There are still about 300 pieces of email to look through. I figure I'll finish with it sometime in February. No more tonight, though. I have to eat something, though I'm not sure what. Something quick, I think.
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Comments:
[User Picture]From: zyzyly
2017-01-18 05:25 am (UTC)
Whenever you describe your neighborhood, I am taken back to the memory of a book I read a long time ago, that occurred in a neighborhood in the Berkeley hills, which was probably nothing like yours, but the way you describe it is like the way the author described his.

Interestingly, I found out that when my dad was a teenager, they lived in the neighborhood described in the book, and that the author was their next door neighbor.
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