The Puking Tree - Part Deux

There's a secret story behind the puking tree, one we tell out of earshot from the neighbors.  They're at work today, so I'm going to proceed.

The neighbor's disdain for the puking tree predates my arrival at this house.  The legend goes, Stephanie's former landscaper (coincidentally, her father) was approached by the neighbor and asked to bag the leaves so as to keep them from her driveway.  It was a ridiculous request, but the landscaper obliged, because he is a nice man.

There's a caveat to this legend, one that involves our optometrist down the street. A nice man himself, he decided to help Stephanie by using his leaf blower to clear her yard of the puking tree's leavings.  His kind deed was met with stiff rebuke from the neighbor.  Thankfully, he still agrees to annually examine our eyes. 

The puking tree, then, must be seen as the neighbor's enemy.  It is the vexing figure by which all yardly tormenting emanates (for her, at least).  As a result, I must constantly be on my toes.  I must carefully survey the depth of the piling leaves.  I must watch their subtle encroachment toward said neighbor's cold and clammy driveway.  I must consider my manner warily when I carry on with neighborly business.

Because the puking tree and its reveling compadres in the neighborhood spill their contents all fall long, the Land Park community provides a pickup service.  We pile our lawn clippings and leaves in a in the street, and a rumbling claw shovels them into a truck.  It's more environmentally efficient, yes, to use the yard-waste bin for such matters, but the sheer volume of trees and their habit for puking still render the claw a viable and valued option for residents.

Not here though.

Our neighbor's location behind a storm drain provides her with an unprecedented level of angst.  The street piles, she proudly argues, always lead to clogged grates, flooded streets, and unfit suburban living conditions.  Letters! she told me, will be sent to those who continue to clump fallen leaves in the street!  (In a connected story, the sheer fear of this woman led to an evening excursion during last week's storm, when I found myself achilles-deep in water in front of the neighbor's house at 9:30 p.m.  I was only raking a puddle, but still.)

Thankfully, there's yet another story behind the puking tree.  It's a developing story, you might say.  There are three-parts currently, but like the steady drop of leaves, parts are most certain to continue accumulating:

1. Leaving the house last Saturday, we found a family of three on the sidewalk beneath the puking tree, taking family photos with a professional photographer.  "We love this tree," they told us.  "Louder," I thought, staring toward the neighbor.
2. While on the roof this week, I noticed an elderly woman in a minivan slowing in front of the house.  She rolled down her window to tell me, "This is my favorite tree in all of Land Park."
3. Today, as I piled leaves from the puking tree into our (now full) green-waste bin, a woman hopped out of an SUV and asked to collect some leaves.  She, here visiting her family from Arizona, began to describe how the ginkgo leaves can be used in select pottery designs to leave imprints during the firing of ceramics.