The first time I met the young couple who bought the house next door is when they announced they were going to remove the huge hedge that separates our properties. I confess that I was taken aback.
“That’s my hedge,” I pointed out.
“I don’t think so,” said Amber while Zack, her husband, stood mutely by, shaking his head.
“Trust me,” I said, “it’s my hedge,” although honestly, I wasn’t 100% sure. But it was on my side of the fence and I had always been responsible for maintaining it and so I always assumed it was mine.
Amber pretended she did not hear me. “It’s coming out,” she said firmly, while Zack nodded. “I’m replacing it with a hibiscus hedge,” she said and now my jaw dropped.
“A hibiscus hedge?” I said. “Why?” And I told them that I had just removed a large hibiscus hedge. “I hated to do it,” I said, “I love the flowers but the iguanas ate the entire hedge.”
This was 100% true; a large family of iguanas, working as a team, ate every flower as soon as it opened. When they were done with the flowers they ate the leaves and as the well-fed iguanas grew they became so heavy that while they were eating the flowers and leaves the branches would break under their body weight. After their meal the iguanas would relieve themselves on the patio resulting in a foul, slippery mess that was an invitation for a broken hip. And then, the final straw, the iguanas would often dive into the pool, swim a leisurely lap or two, climb out and start the whole process again.
I told this to Amber and Zack but they were not swayed. “I’ve always wanted a hibiscus hedge,” said Amber in a tone that clearly indicated she was used to getting her way. “Besides, iguanas don’t eat hibiscus,” she concluded firmly while Zack shook his head.
I shrugged. “Google it,” I said shortly and added, “I’ll get back to you about the hedge,” while I wondered how fast I could get the yard surveyed.
As fate would have it, I had had the yard surveyed a couple of years ago when we put on a small addition and the surveyor’s pin was still clearly visible on the property line and there was no doubt the hedge was on my side of the pin. I painted the pin with orange surveyor’s paint, took a picture and texted it to Amber.
“Here you go,” I texted breezily. “It’s my hedge after all.” I hit “send” and, showing rare restraint, did not send a subsequent text: “And keep your grubby paws off of it.”
I never heard back from Amber and Zack but a couple weeks later I saw them unloading dozens of gorgeous hibiscus plants from their pickup truck. The plants were huge, and lush and in full bloom; god only knows what they paid for them. I wondered what they were up to and spent the weekend guarding my hedge.
They spent the entire weekend planting their new hedge on the other side of mine, and it was lovely. But several days later when I was walking Ali I noticed that the plants were looking a bit ragged; the iguanas had clearly discovered their new food source. By the end of the week the plants were looking bedraggled and soon the lush new hedge was leggy, bare and devoid of any flowers.
The next time I walked Ali Amber and Zack were in the front yard, surveying the carnage.
“Hey neighbors,” I said, pointedly looking at the new hedge. Amber pointedly would not make eye contact with me.
“How’s it going?” said Zack.