Speechwriting: Corporate, Weddings, Retirement


It's a Jungle Out There: Before the Thunder

My neighbor's deck was overgrown with weeds. The wood was rotting, revealing nails from ancient Icelandic ships. Wasps rated it in Mud House Beautiful as one of the top places in the United States to raise larvae and bother BBQs.

It needed to go. The condo association encouraged this, even.

So he tore it down. And removed the weeds (most of them).

In its stead, he planted grass. It grew. It is still growing. New weeds, too.

The wasps have moved, and chipmunks have moved in. One remarked to me just the other day that he just can't find a good place to live in the western suburbs at his price point. Now, though, he is as pleased as pink, and relocated his entire family. Presently, though, they are vacationing underneath my porch, taking excursions to dine at Hotel Trendlini, choosing always the freshest tomatoes grown in my backyard garden.

The thunder has yet to sound, yet the chipmunks are nowhere to be seen. They know. Like in many a-jungle, they are rain forests, such as you see here. By just a few slabs of wood, I am protected from fierce,  unseen beasts and evil fauna known only to those who never leave this jungle.
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