We have been in our new home for about 8 months. While the home, and neighborhood, is certainly not new, it is to us, so there are always surprises.
One of those surprises happened last weekend.
First of all, our family has been through one of those weeks that no family should have to go through. And so it was we were rushing out to deal with an urgent situation when a man in a pick up truck pulls into our driveway blocking our exit.
A well worn, wiry, middle-aged Asian man jumps out and approaches our car. My mind is on the task at hand, so I really do not have an interest in talking to this guy, but I'm blocked in, so I ask, "Can I help you?"
Another man, a bit older, balding, and with a paunch, hops out of the other side of the truck.
"Are you the owner of this house?"
"Yes."
"Can we have some of your bamboo?"
Our home, affectionately known as The Compound, sits on an acre of land, squeezed in between two neighborhoods well inside the city borders. Of the acre of land, approximately half is populated with bamboo. We have two separate "bamboo forests" on the property, the front one and the rear one.
The bamboo is so think in the front that I half expect to find a family of pandas out there. A few weeks ago a tree fell within the "forest" and I did not discover it for several days. I can honestly answer the question, "If a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it does it make a sound?" with a resounding "No!"
Maintaining this aspect of our property is a lot of work.
So the Greatest Woman on God's Green Earth (GWGGE) and I share a glance at each other and I turn to the two Asian men at my car window.
"Yes. Of course, but could you come back tomorrow. We have some urgent business to attend to right now."
They agreed, moved out of our way, and we were off.
The following day, while I was out walking the dogs, the older Asian man shows up at the house. The GWGGE gives him instruction and he begins cutting.
I arrive at the house, go out to see what's going on. A lone, balding, Asian man in business attire is hacking away at our bamboo, but only the dead stalks per the instructions. It turns out he is Ming, the lead pastor at the Vietnamese Catholic Church around the corner from The Compound. I go back inside to do the rest of my morning chores.
A while later I wander back out to the front to see how the Vietnamese pastor is faring. And when I do, I am shocked to discover a platoon of Vietnamese bamboo lumberjacks thinning out our Bamboo forest. I report my findings to the GWGGE and we have a bit of a chuckle about the whole thing.
Just before the lumberjacks leave, the pastor invites our family to their annual crawfish festival and their Sunday community luncheons filled with traditional Vietnamese fare. I can't wait to go!
One of those surprises happened last weekend.
First of all, our family has been through one of those weeks that no family should have to go through. And so it was we were rushing out to deal with an urgent situation when a man in a pick up truck pulls into our driveway blocking our exit.
A well worn, wiry, middle-aged Asian man jumps out and approaches our car. My mind is on the task at hand, so I really do not have an interest in talking to this guy, but I'm blocked in, so I ask, "Can I help you?"
Another man, a bit older, balding, and with a paunch, hops out of the other side of the truck.
"Are you the owner of this house?"
"Yes."
"Can we have some of your bamboo?"
Our home, affectionately known as The Compound, sits on an acre of land, squeezed in between two neighborhoods well inside the city borders. Of the acre of land, approximately half is populated with bamboo. We have two separate "bamboo forests" on the property, the front one and the rear one.
The bamboo is so think in the front that I half expect to find a family of pandas out there. A few weeks ago a tree fell within the "forest" and I did not discover it for several days. I can honestly answer the question, "If a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it does it make a sound?" with a resounding "No!"
Maintaining this aspect of our property is a lot of work.
So the Greatest Woman on God's Green Earth (GWGGE) and I share a glance at each other and I turn to the two Asian men at my car window.
"Yes. Of course, but could you come back tomorrow. We have some urgent business to attend to right now."
They agreed, moved out of our way, and we were off.
The following day, while I was out walking the dogs, the older Asian man shows up at the house. The GWGGE gives him instruction and he begins cutting.
I arrive at the house, go out to see what's going on. A lone, balding, Asian man in business attire is hacking away at our bamboo, but only the dead stalks per the instructions. It turns out he is Ming, the lead pastor at the Vietnamese Catholic Church around the corner from The Compound. I go back inside to do the rest of my morning chores.
A while later I wander back out to the front to see how the Vietnamese pastor is faring. And when I do, I am shocked to discover a platoon of Vietnamese bamboo lumberjacks thinning out our Bamboo forest. I report my findings to the GWGGE and we have a bit of a chuckle about the whole thing.
Just before the lumberjacks leave, the pastor invites our family to their annual crawfish festival and their Sunday community luncheons filled with traditional Vietnamese fare. I can't wait to go!
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