Never Far from the Tree
Do you ever wonder what your landscaper does when they really, really hate you? Even though it was probably not the case, my mother and I like to think that sheer loathing is the only reason why someone would plant hybrid Dogwoods such as the ones that shade our front walk. When these trees bloom, instead of having white, rounded petals similar to those of the normal Dogwood Tree, they have petals that come to an angry point and are tinged green. Even at the best of times, they are not particularly lovely.
Then, Autumn comes. Just before the air becomes crisp and cool, these trees begin to incessantly rain angry, red berries onto everything. The humidity of the last days of summer insure that the festering smell of these stinkfruits constantly lingers above the walkway. One can sweep them off multiple times each day and still find more. We do everything we can to avoid them and get them out of the way, but a few inevitably get squished underfoot.
When one of these miserable stink-orbs gets squished, it's as if a vortex has been opened to another planet-a planet where sour, decomposing fruits roam free in the detritus of their garbage-paved land. Fortunately, they are easy enough to scrape off of one's shoe in the grass, but their smell will linger on the pathway until the next rain.
Tonight, I began to hear squeaking noises that seemed very close. I moved to the door in hopes of finding the source of the noise. Turning on the lights outside and peeking out the window, I saw them. There were four brown raccoons skittering along on our walk very close to the door. They were most certainly attracted by the enticingly foul scent that beckoned them to our sidewalk smorgasbord. I watched them retreat into the hedges, alerted to another presence by the light.
I am still unsure whether I want to add the raccoons to the ever-growing list of reasons to hate these trees, since it doesn't seem like a good thing to have wildlife that close to our front door. On the other hand, I found them somewhat cute, so I don't feel like it was too bad.
There are many questions surrounding these trees. Who would create such a hybrid and think it suitable to sell to innocent people? Why are they still here with their impossibly high numbers of rancid berries dropping daily? However, I do know that, tomorrow-as sure as the sun will rise-there will be still more repugnant stink-orbs to sweep from the walkway. As frustrating as it is, I can appreciate the little bit of certainty it provides...until another of Mother Nature's mini misery bombs is accidentally squished beneath my shoe.