Wisteria Cottage

Snow White

Finn

Wisteria Cottage is one of my favorites. It's not the largest or most beautiful garden on the island if you are into that sort of thing, but it is named well. The huge Wisteria vine that gives the cottage its name is over 75 feet long and has literally caused the collapse of two trees. And that's with us pruning it heavily each winter. The thing is simply unstoppable and when it is blooming, is the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen or smelled. But, what makes it truly remarkable is that this cultivar of wisteria isn't supposed to last through the nasty winters here, much less thrive. It's a survivor. I can respect that.

I have to push my trike with its attached wagon up the small lane that leads to the back gate. I tried cycling up it once, only once, and lost a pair of sheers, two buckets, and my lunch from the back. It's a bit bumpy, to say the least. That's okay though, it gives me a few minutes to see the yard from a different angle and give it a good going over before I start mowing. Jack will be by later, he checks each cottage once a week to plan the next week's schedule, but he always listens if we give him notes. Today it all looks good except that the side gate isn't latched. Since the cottage is empty this summer, I consider calling Sheriff Holden to have him do a quick walk-through but it's his last week and the chances of someone breaking in are pretty slim. Someone probably just wanted to get a closer look at the Wisteria and helped themselves to a peek or perhaps a sample. It wouldn't be the first time. I decide to whistle, just in case someone needs a warning that I'm around. It works for bears, right? I'm pretty sure I heard that once, not that we have any bears on the island to test it on. Well, not the kind that walk on four legs, anyway.

I grab the push mower out of the back, it's much simpler to do small yards with a light mower, than lug the electric one with me. Most of the back yard is fairly shady and doesn't grow more in a week than my reel mower can easily handle. I'm halfway around the outside edge when a window on the second floor slides open and a man hollers down at me "Could you be a little louder, snow white? I'm trying to fucking nap!"

I'm so surprised that I just gawk up at him. Surprised that he's being nasty and that he's drop dead gorgeous. Like movie star gorgeous. Heck, maybe he is. A movie star, not dead. You probably knew that. I wave up at him because that's what I do to people, even when they're being a monster. "So sorry Sir, didn't know anyone was here!"

"Well I am" is the only response I get before he slams the window closed. Okay, he's a weird dude. One, it's 10:30. I'm on my third job of the day and he's still in bed? I mean, he's probably on vacation so I guess that's fair. What's really weird is that his window was closed. It's a gorgeous 70 degrees and the entire island is drenched in heavenly scents and he's got the house closed up like it's empty. Oh, maybe he's not supposed to be here. But if I was squatting, I wouldn't yell at people either. Not that I would, ever, it's just not me, but you know. I make a mental note to mention him being here to Jack.