There was no way out. The law was clear about trees on private property. The best part?
Those three privacy trees I planted? They’re thriving. Each week, they grow taller, thicker, and greener.
By next spring, their yard will be in full shadow from dawn to dusk. Permanent, living payback. And there’s nothing they can do, unless they want another round in court.
Now, when I sit under my new little grove with my coffee, I hear the soft rustle of the leaves, not the same as the old apple tree, but soothing in its own way. Sometimes I close my eyes and smile, imagining my grandparents sitting with me. I think they’d be proud.
They always said: “Plant something worth keeping, and guard it with all you’ve got.”
Turns out… I did both. And as I took another sip of coffee, I heard Faye’s voice behind the fence, bitter and low:
“God, I wish we’d never moved here.”
I didn’t even turn around. I just smiled and whispered:
“Me too, Faye.”
