Evergreen, Never More

Remember this photo?





I snapped this shot at the height of Freak Snowstorm 2009. As the photo shows, this was big, heavy, wet snow, and these two trees are bearing the brunt of it.



Within 4 days of this picture, the snow had melted under sunny skies and temps in the 70s. The trees bounced back, shaking off the heavy snow, raising their limbs, and boasting evergreen needles while all the surrounding trees had to wait another month for their summer finery.


All seemed fine, but below the surface, something wasn't right. Over the next few weeks, the tree on the right began to show signs of stress and fatigue. After several weeks of steady decline, it looks like this:





I'm no hortoculturist, but I don't think the little tree is doing well. I like to believe that the little tree fought the good fight through 2 years of drought, but the big pile of heavy snow proved to be too much to bear. It's a sad sight, particularly poignant when set against the vibrant green of the other trees and grass that seem to be bragging about their ability to hold up under adversity.

I feel certain that the corporate management of my apartment complex has already contacted the landscaping service to remove this blight on their perfectly constructed apartment paradise. One day soon, I'll come home and all that will be left of the little tree will be a stump and some wood chips. Before this post takes an irreversible turn into Maudlinville, I'll just say that I'll miss the little tree. And that other tree is just a big show-off.

One more thing - I don't want to ever live in a place called Maudlinville.

Neighbors

I've lived in apartments for the better part of 20 years now. I've never felt settled enough to buy a house, and never felt financially able to take on a mortgage and upkeep. So, I've lived in a dizzying array of apartments.

Apartments have their advantages. If something breaks, I call the leasing office or landlord and they fix it at no cost to me. The landscaping always looks great and I don't have to lift a finger or break a sweat. In upstate New York, I didn't have to shovel snow. In Georgia, apartments come with central air conditioning, and most have swimming pools and exercise rooms.

Apartments also come with distinct disadvantages. Your rent can increase from year to year. There's not much space for entertaining or guests. I'm pretty sure I'm getting shafted on my water bill. And, neighbors come and go on a regular basis. This has to be the worst part of apartment living. Since I moved into my current apartment, I've had 3 different neighbors in the downstairs apartment. Each time one moves out, I pray for one thing: Lord, please send me a quiet neighbor.

Twice, my wish was granted. While my previous 2 neighbors had small children, I only heard them on rare occasions. It was bliss, and now it's over. I have a new-ish downstairs neighbor. He's a young fellow who moved in about 2 months ago. I've only seen him once or twice, both times in uniform. Seems he's assigned to the sailors' school in this landlocked college town.

I don't know much about him, and in the absence of real information, I'm constructing my own narrative from few visible clues. First, he has a hammock on his balcony. It's one of those hammocks on a stand. The hammock and stand barely fit on the balcony, so one end of the contraption is in the storage closet. The hammock seems to suggest that he enjoys lying outside, possibly in the sun. However, he never opens the blinds to his apartment, which suggests that he's a vampire. A vampire who dresses in sailor suits and likes to lie on a partially enclosed hammock.

Last week, the hammock vampire sailor found the volume on his television. I'm not sure what he's doing down there, but from my vantage point, it sounds like thunder. Intermittent, loud thunder. Annoying, irritating, distracting thunder. I'm guessing it's some kind of video game. Three to four hours every evening. Ugh.

All apartment dwellers know that there is a chain of responses to such disturbances. So far, I've used the "jump up and down" approach. So far, Sailor Vampire Boy is either a) blatantly ignoring my passive-aggressive message, or b) unfamiliar with the universal sign for "STFU" and is wondering why his upstairs neighbor is using the floor as a trampoline. So, today, I moved on to Step 2: Polite note on his door and discussion with leasing office staff. We'll see what happens. If nothing changes, I'll move on to Step 3: Sicking the leasing office staff on him. Here's hoping he doesn't turn into a bat and bite my neck. At least I can feel safe in my apartment because everyone knows that a vampire can't enter your home unless they are invited.

Having an Apartment Complex

Today, I received the monthly newsletter from my leasing office. I live in a corporate-owned apartment complex, so much of the newsletter is generic filler. This month, my corporate slumlords passed on a recipe for Microwave White Chicken Chili, offered advice on reducing credit card debt, and reminded me that January 28 is "National Write to Congress Day." All useful information. The column about snow is less useful, particularly since it was 60 some-odd degrees today.

The monthly newsletter usually finds itself on the fast track to the recycling bin. Today, as I prepared to be environmentally responsible, two colored sheets drifted to the floor. I picked them up and read two very important announcements from the bitter, humorless leasing agents.


This month, the Little Leasing Dictators (LLDs) alerted us to "damage to the main gate during the holiday break." I should back up a bit and explain that the apartment complex prides itself on perceived exclusivity. Yes, we have a gate, and yes, you need a special card to gain entry into the enclave. But, there's no fence. Just to review: Gate? Yes. Fence? No. In case you're wondering, I do pay extra for this service.

Anyway, at some point during the holidays, someone got really annoyed with the gate and rammed it. Rammed it hard enough to break the little motor and leave half of the gate hanging at a terribly depressing angle. I'm not sure when it happened. All I know is that there is a little piece of crime-scene tape still dangling from the privacy-not-security gate.

So, the LLDs want us all to know that "the damage was so severe, that we are having to have extensive repairs done. This may take a little bit of time." They "apologize for the inconvenience" and ask for our patience. Yeah, I'm torn up about being able to drive on to the property without having to stop and press my magic card to the metal plate.

In other apartment news, "There is a serious problem with pet owners being irresponsible!" Serious enough to warrant an exclamation point! Apparently, the LLDs "are seeing more and more pet waste left on the grounds" and they ain't happy. Not happy at all. In this full-page reminder, they inform pet-owners and non-pet-owners alike that "cleaning up after your pet is easy and REQUIRED." (Emphasis in original). They're not taking any more crap from you, or your little dog.

I can just imagine the discussion at the monthly leasing office staff meeting:
Groundskeeper #1: Man, I saw 4 huge mounds of pet waste today.
Groundskeeper #2 (no pun intended): Oh yeah, well, I saw 6 mounds, and one was still warm.
Brown-nosing LLD intern: Gosh, what can we do to address this problem of critical importance?
Head LLD: I know! I'm going to fire off one of my flyers on bright orange paper with BOLD CAPITAL LETTERS and exclamation points!! That's sure to fix this problem!
Brown-nosing LLD intern: You're so smart. I can't wait until I can send out orange flyers with exclamation points!
Slacker LLD intern: I can't believe we're spending all this time talking about dog crap.

So, the Head LLD went to her computer and composed the flyer. Not content to merely remind pet owners that cleaning up is REQUIRED, she added the following: "Pet owners - We have seen the culprits that are not cleaning up after their dogs. We are watching to see if you CLEAN UP your act."

Good to see my rent money going to good use. Apparently, I'm paying people to watch dogs relieve themselves. I wonder if everyone on staff is required to perform this duty (or "doody"), or if one fellow literally got the shit end of the stick. Wonder if they've designated one of their golf carts for the Poopy Patrol. The groundskeeper drives around all day in the now-brown cart, waiting for pet owners to bring their dogs outside. Then, he screeches to a stop, disembarks, and watches. I believe the dog might be thinking, "Dude, I don't need an audience." What's next? The groundskeepers start sending samples to the College Town Crime Lab for definitive identification?

Wonder if the groundskeepers get into arguments about particular evidence:
Groundskeeper #1: "Oh yeah, that's from the golden retriever in Apt A."
Groundskeeper #2: "Dude, you're crazy. That's not from a golden retriever. That's from that schnauzer in Apt B."
Groundskeeper #1: "Schnauzer, my Aunt Fannie. The only way that came from a schauzer is if that schnauzer was a golden retriever."
[If they have these conversations, I might recommend that they seek other employment.]

The flyer concludes: REMEMBER: IF YOU DO NOT CLEAN UP AFTER YOUR PET, YOU WILL LOOSE THE PRIVILEGE OF HAVING A PET AT [name withheld to protect the innocent] APARTMENTS."

I certainly wouldn't want to "loose" the privilege of having a pet. Wouldn't want poor Fido to be evicted.