Peeking Through

I had intentions to post about something else entirely today.

But I am annoyed.

And frustrated.

The noise started early this morning, maybe 7:00 a.m., with an incessant whine of machinery. Large saws revving and humming; shouts of workers barking orders to one another; scraping noises--akin to fingernails on chalkboard--as equipment was dragged from spot to spot emanating from the space behind my house.

That was the annoying part.

The frustration began when I looked out my back window and saw what all the noise was about.

Ack! They were cutting down trees!

Our row of houses sits parallel to a long row of flats, 5 stories high. Between the cinder block wall of our back garden and the apartment building there is some garden space. Perhaps 50' of area separates us, which until today was planted in towering trees. Beautiful tall trunks, with massively large branches full of brilliant green foliage spilling out in multiple directions. Trees that shaded my yard and granted us a little bit of privacy

Living here, I have grown accustomed to the idea that the residents of floor 5 in that adjacent building have a bird's eye view into our garden. Not that there is much to see. Okay, yes, on occasion there is a diaper-less preschooler strutting his stuff in the yard, digging in the dirt and splashing in his water box. More often though, it is my daughter or I snuggled into the plastic chaise, soaking up sunrays and ingesting a book. As a family, we love to have dinner in the back if the sun is shining. I like to sit at the teak wood table with a morning cup of coffee; an afternoon glass of wine, even. I like believing I am alone out there. It has been a cozy haven and having those trees in the background was a crucial bit of that gezellig feeling.

Now they are gone.

Relentlessly felled and cut into manageable pieces, then dragged away.

I am frustrated. In my gut is stewing a deep disconcertion over the idea that residents of floors 2, 3, and 4 have joined the ranks of those who can see into my yard.

Frustrated. Annoyed. More than a little sad to see the trees go.

One of the crowning points of life in The Hague is the wooded areas and the tree lined streets. It is a gorgeous sea of green in this city when the spring sun sends its warmth to the branches and coaxes new leaves from winter gray branches.

In our front garden is a young oak tree. I have enjoyed every stage from bud to leaf throughout the spring. Watching that new life blossom is inspiration beyond words for me. With each unfolding leaf, I felt that I was unfolding too. Shedding the bark-like protection of winter and opening my whole soul to the sun and the possibilities of summer.

I welcome summer in ways that are difficult for me to divulge fully. I love the summer. I want the summer. I need the summer. Every moment I can get. Every drop of sunshine it brings.
I wanted to do all that needing and wanting and loving, privately in my back yard.

However, that is not my lot.

A gaping hole in the green with a view of brick building and rows of windows will be my companion this summer.

Undaunted, I will still be there, sopping up each and every moment of sunshine that comes our way this season.

Moreover, I will raise my glass--Cola Light with ice--to peering eyes and drink to the memory of my trees.

Where the trees used to be.