There's this yard I look into from the train every morning. I almost always sit on the east side of the train so I can soak up some sunshine on the way into work. A lot of times I just read the paper but sometimes I stare out into people's backyards as we clatter along the tracks. Every morning for the last week I've been fascinated by a particular yard in Atherton. It's entirely enclosed by a six foot tall fence. It's been mowed to the ground, and the short grass has burnt to a golden crisp. There are no plants, no benches, no sheds, no piles of dog poop, no bowling equipment, no whipping post, no nothing to indicate what activity takes place in there, and I cannot figure it out.
Seeing that much unused land in a densely populated and overpriced neighborhood like Atherton strikes me as obscene. It sits right next to an occupied house with a proper, well-tended backyard. I only get a 10 second glance before it's out of sight, so I have to piece together the information bit by bit. I don't get it. Why would someone enclose a decent bit of earth, keep it infertile, and ignore it? They could have done so much with it. It must be worth thousands.
It's driving me crazy.
I had dinner tonight with a fellow wizard from RiverMOO yclept DarkShadow. It was our second dinner in two weeks, and I really enjoyed myself. It's surprising, actually, considering how different our backgrounds are, not to mention the 18 year age difference. She's Mormon, lives at home, rides a bike everywhere, crochets, and is studying to be a firefighter. She never swears. She is saving herself for her future husband. She works insanely long hours. She's lots of fun to talk to. It's the old opposites attract thing, I guess, because you certainly wouldn't suppose we'd have enough to talk about to last through a drink (not that she drinks) let alone an entire meal. We do, though. Her life is practically a soap opera, and we have lots of mutual online acquaintences to gossip about, mainly the other wizards we work with. DarkShadow is a riot, and a really nice kid.
She's terrible at directions, though. I must have criss-crossed the flat baylands of San Jose four times trying to find the restaurant we wanted and the freeways to get there. It was comic, and I didn't much mind, but I really do not care if I ever see the San Tomas Expressway again in my life. However, if you need directions to the Winchester Mystery House, I'm your woman. I passed that sucker twice.
Maybe that's the answer. The mysterious yard in Atherton is haunted. Probably by the ghosts of real estate agents who regret not making just one more buck off all the computer industry workers. They float about ectoplasmically and moan, "I told you Steve Jobs would be back..."
