I admit it. I LOVE spying on people. I love watching as they go about their daily business, and I love peering in their windows to see how wonderfully they may have decorated their homes. To my husband's chagrin and my mother's partnership, if any window in any house that I happen to be driving or walking past has open curtains, I will surreptitiously gaze into the room as I continue moving slowly past. In the past, I tried at times to curb my curiosity, and even now, I attempt to mask the direction of my gaze without ripping my eyeballs from their sockets, but people and homes are so addictive to me.

Last week, I stood at my kitchen window, minding my own business and washing the dishes, when I noticed my neighbor in his backyard. He and his wife have recently started a small garden, and it is their pride and joy. Whenever I walk over there to visit, we invariably end up in their garden evaluating just how much the miscellaneous vegetables may have grown over the past few days. This is their very first garden, and they are obsessed with it. (Sidenote: I planted my first garden, named Garden 1, on Mother's Day this year in a small flower bed in the front of my house. As of today, not one flower has grown in my little flower bed, and I am very sad about that. I plan to start Garden 2 later this year.)

As I unashamedly watched out the window (because it was daytime, and no one could see that I was staring like a maniac) Denny carried a sprinkler over to his garden. The sprinkler was the type that creates a swaying arch of water like a lady's old fashioned feather fan in days of yore. (I've been wanting to sneak that phrase into my blog since I started typing, "days of yore.") Anyway, Denny set the sprinkler down in the center of the garden. He stepped back and watched the arch bend backwards and forwards several times over his plants. Apparently, the water was missing a few too many leaves for his liking, so he walked over and adjusted it. He stepped back again and observed. He walked forward and adjusted it. He stepped back and observed; he walked forward and adjusted. After twelve (yes, I was counting) adjustments, he picked up the sprinkler and carried it from the center of the garden to the far left side. He set it down in a strategic spot and stepped back to observe the spray.

A few more adjustments later, I became bored (and Libby was hungry) so I turned from the window and fed her a few crackers. About fifteen minutes later, I walked past our sliding glass doors and noticed Denny was still out in his garden, placing, observing and adjusting. The sprinkler was still on the left side of the garden. I picked Liberty up and pointed our garden-crazy neighbor out to her. We laughed and watched him from the sliding door until the sun began setting. When I decided that the growing darkness would enable him to notice me watching him from inside my house, Libby and I boldly stepped out onto the back porch. "How's it going, Denny?" I called out to him with a grin and a hint of a chuckle in my voice.

He glanced over his left shoulder towards us. "Hi! Just working on watering the plants." He volunteered.

Liberty and I stood on the back deck for a little while chuckling to ourselves, but once the mosquitoes decided I would make a great main course for the evening, we headed back inside.

Maybe that's what my problem with Garden 1 was. I should have asked Denny to come water it!