I had a beautiful yard surrounded by mature lilac bushes that served several purposes. They gave my yard privacy from a busy street. They absorbed sounds from outside the yard and absorbed vibrations from passing trains. They looked pretty. They smelled nice. I loved the oasis that this green wall created.
Then one day I woke to the sight of the neighbor ripping the bushes that shared our property out of the ground with a truck—from the roots. I was devastated. I couldn’t believe it. They didn’t even have the neighborly decency to knock on my door and have a conversation about it all. There wasn’t a lot of fight in me at this time in my life so I watched from my bedroom window, deeply saddened. I mustered the courage to go talk to the man doing the work (the father-in-law).
“Excuse me? Sir? Hello?” There was a lot of pausing between each word. “Um, are those your bushes?” A lame starting point for a conversation or maybe a fight. Although I was 99% sure the lilacs were the property of my property I didn’t want to be part of the asshole club that he seemed to currently be captain of. “Hello?” I spoke one more time.
Bent down, tying a chain around another cluster of the plant, and not looking up at all, he replied gruffly. “My bushes. I wouldn’t take them if they weren’t.” I understand that plants grow where ever they want unless they are trained and trimmed by people and these definitely spread across both properties.
“Oh.” I walked away holding back tears. The next day I noticed a cluster near the front deck and thought compassion must have taken Captain Lilac Killer after my question of ownership. He must have left a bundle to bloom the following spring. My optimism didn’t last long as one more day passed and the last of the bushes were ripped out.
Confirmation
Coincidently, I happened to run into the previous owner. He commented on the crab apple tree that was planted on Father’s Day. He went on about how the following year they planted all the lilacs. I knew it!! I fucking knew it! They were MINE!! But, it was too late.
Truth, I was made at myself too, for not standing my ground and my property.
They left so what was the point
My yard opened to the neighbor’s yard and I hated it. I spent less time in the front. It just wasn’t the same without all that greenery. The neighbors left. They sold their house and moved to a gated community—a perfect location for them. In my mind the walls kept them in that fabricated urban construct more than it kept others out. The space between us felt good. I was glad they were gone—unlike the bushes.
Hope in all its forms
One spring day, a long time later, I pulled up in front of my house, and there between the two properties was a twig—sticking straight up. It looked like someone had stuck this stick into the earth. I have seen plenty of weird in this neighborhood like the time there were three slices of white bread on the windshield of my car. I will never be able to explain that one. So, this twig, in my mind, was an environmental art piece.
I walked over to the stick and tugged. It was tethered to the earth. It was a lilac twig! My bush was fighting the good fight. It was growing back. That little twig has turned into a lovely poof of a lilac bush that flowers my front yard in the spring. It’s not the whole length of the property but this bush is like a pretty middle finger to the fucker who took it down. It’s full of blossoms in the spring and it makes me happy that it didn’t end. It kept going.
Lessons for me
- 1. Fight, because if I feel I’m right I might just be.
- 2. A fight doesn’t have to be aggressive, it can be a conversation (I wish I had).
- 3. Nature has not let me down. She’s full of surprises.
Growth
Well, the twig grew into a bush for one. Growth has also come for me. Today, ten years later, I have changed. I cannot imagine letting someone take something of mine without a fight. Cannot. imagine. The feisty little bush was one of my teachers in standing my ground. I think I was always worried about how I was perceived. But it’s all in how you frame it. She’s that neighbor OR she’s that woman who stands up for herself. The second has a pretty swell ring to it.
As always thank you for reading lovelies.
Angie Counios 
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