Our version of the King of Kensington is in an ongoing feud with one or maybe several of the folks who drive the garbage trucks down our alley.
His wrath is somewhat legit. Not only has our Guerrilla Garden bed taken several death blows,
but they have taken out the corner of his garage...twice.
Here you can see our dog mulling over the sorrow.
That being said, I'm not sure what the odds of them ok-ing my banner plan are. I'm guessing bad.
So this is the backup plan.
This will land on our telephone pole below the flicker house.
I'm practicing non attachment because 'our' telephone pole was labelled for extermination last summer. The King's wife had us on high alert when she noticed nearby poles hitting the concrete. In a flurry we tore down our laundry line and moved the Hotel deux Flicker, only to watch and wait expectantly all summer for nothing to happen.
If this faux leather purple party suit ends its days as the funeral shroud of our lowly telephone pole, then people, my work here is done.
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