It was the mystery on my street with Katrina-born messages scrawled on the wobbly, leaning fence and so overgrown with flora you could barely see the house.
Last week as John and I set out on foot to our next dining destination, I stopped in my tracks and literally goggled. For weeks they had been clearing away plants from behind the crooked fence, but at last the final barrier had been removed.
I am ecstatic that “they” – whomever they are – have seen their way through to improving this property and I am anxious and excited for what may come of this great, old house. I’m trying not to get my hopes up too high because they may just demolish it and start over, but I have seen men working on it, getting rid of ruined flooring and general debris.
On the other hand, it’s kind of sad-looking. All naked and exposed, shivering on the corner with nothing left to hide behind, its mystery somehow defiled by stripping away its wild facade.
Here’s to the raw, new beginning in 2012…