Sometime last week I heard the sound of chainsaws coming from up across the street.
It turned out that a neighbor across the street and a few houses up decided to pretty much decimate their front yard and rid it of about a dozen pines trees.
A few days later, the same tree-removing company was seen next door tackling a few more pines in the yard of a neighbor next to the original house.
Then a day later, another house - one who already recently had some (shitty) tree work done - enlisted the help of this same company.
As I was driving up the street, I saw one of my neighbors. Max is an older, retired man who is often seen walking the block with his cane and hat and Harvard sweatshirt. I rolled down my window and spoke to him.
"Max," I said, "seems like those guys hit the jackpot on this street."
"Found themselves a honey hole," he said with a smile.
Today, I noticed that the tree guys had moved on to yet another house.
Honey hole indeed.
3 comments:
"Honey hole", what a great phrase- the words themselves seem so innocent, but combined just seem nasty. Bet you'd get interesting results on Google images too...
The Honey Hole sounds so romantic.
Few things in this world can bring someone such joy and misery as the Honey Hole.
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