alone/together

Louise Madzia Ceramics.

My grandmother got married in 1962, to a young man in the military. For a wedding present, their parents bought them a house in a nice suburb. White picket fence, whole 9 yards. Not long after they moved in, the next door neighbor planted a mullberry tree on the side of his property, near my grandparent’s driveway. Nothing seemed amiss, but if you know Mullberry Trees, you know that sh*t is about to get real.

About 15 years later, the mullberry tree was OBNOXIOUS. The birds would come and eat the berries, and any car parked in the driveway would get sh*t on, and it would stain the cars and ruin paint jobs. My grandmother, upon realizing the culprit, baked a nice apple pie, walked next door, and asked the neighbor if he’d mind trimming back the branches of the tree that hung over her driveway. He told her not to worry, he’d get to it soon. Three days later, my grandmother opened her door to find a half-eaten pie in the plate, crawling with ants, and a note that said “I changed my mind.”

My grandmother threw out the pie, cursing up a storm, and swearing up and down she’d get him to trim that tree or get him back. City ordinance said she could not trim the tree, as the roots were on his property, so the whole tree was his property.