I’ve had to limit my dog walks to the nearest block. Ziggy’s getting older, and the three hills we used to do together are too much for him now.
So I’m treading a path that I’m getting to know quite well.
There’s one corner where the intersection is on a slight hill, but it’s enough of a slant that I (and everyone I’ve ever watched) cut across the diagonal instead of using the proper crosswalk area.
As a result of this trend by neighborhood dog-walkers (and there are a lot of us), the grass between the curb and the sidewalk on that patch at the other side of the diagonal has worn completely away, turned from lush green to dusty brown.
But, a small surprise today.
I noticed as I rounded that slightly uphill corner that someone had laid down two small stones over the dirt. One and then the other, grey and square, flat and smooth, inviting feet and paws to cut the turn and come up off the road onto the sidewalk.
I danced up onto them. One, twist of the hips, two. Even Ziggy used them. Mostly.
What a thing.
Given the choice, people will surely use the stones, not the dirt. Over the years, the grass will grow back around the stones: good for grubs, good for dog pee, good for our morning eyes.
The anonymous stone-layer could have put up a sign: PLEASE don’t walk on the grass! Or laid down a fence, or left just the dirt in place of the grass and called it a day.
But they didn’t. And now there’s a neighbor dancing a two-step on his dog walks.
I guess what I’m saying is, being neighborly isn’t hard: generosity serves up well in small portions.
When you reach that point of exasperation and quandry, don’t put up a fence.
Lay down some stones.