Whoa HOA...

We live in a condo.  It looks like a townhouse.  It costs like a single family home.  It is, however, a condo and the HOA makes it a point to point it out every chance it gets.  We're especially aware of the constrictions imposed by the HOA in the Springtime.  Neighboring 'hoods are all a bloom with gorgeous varieties of colorful flowers.  Trees seem budding with petaled glory. But not where we live.

Our grounds crews seem only concerned with beautifying the area immediately in front the sales office.  There, lush flowerings abound.  (Well, they did until our Easter shoot when Ya plucked a few bare...)  Last Spring I spent a small fortune on flowers so that Chi could grow her thumbs green (we all know that it's not natural, but learned or cultivated).  We dug and fertilized and planted for two days.  And the results?  A beautiful 2x2 foot garden.  Six months later, the crazy folk with the clip boards and cameras spotted the plants (by then in their last bloom before fall chills) and wrote us up for "installing unapproved landscaping."  Really?

So, this year I covet my distant neighbors' garden blooms.  There's one yard I especially adore seeing in April and May.  I drive by the house twice every day and see its purple flowering tree shielding a quaintly old-fashioned, eccentrically crooked set of brick and wood steps with crawling florals in soft purple and pink gorgeousness ebbing out of nooks and crannies.  Hmm... that sounds stalker-like.  I'll clarify: I drive by to drop off and pick up Chi from school.  Right now the house has a beautiful combination of red and yellow tulips in the adjoining flowerbeds.

Ya and I hiked from Chi's school to the house today to look closer at the flowers.  Amazing.  I want to walk up to the door, knock and express my appreciation; but that would be weird, right?  So instead I did what I always do: I asked Ya to stand on the steps and smile for a picture.  He agreed to stay in the general area, but smile he would not.

 

I refrained from silly dances, snorts and bird calls because the lady living next door might think me odd.  Oh well.