I Think I Know What You're Thinking

In my next door neighbor’s yard, flowers dance in pastel waves and shrubs and trees flex their trim forms. And in my yard? The plants are the equivalent of couch potatoes. My yard is often a lax tangle of living and dead plant stuff, and I know it bothers my neighbor. In fact, it bothers me, but Yard Work slithers under other To Do items and hides there for months.

One August afternoon, I returned home and parked my car in front of my house just as a woman parked at the house next door. Clearly, she was a friend of Perfect Yard Neighbor. As the woman stepped out of her car, in my rear view mirror I saw her look at my yard, then at me. She did this a few times—my yard, then me.

Crap. She was clearly waiting to talk to me, and I knew what was coming: a lecture, on behalf of her friend, titled Clean Up Yer Damn Yard. And I was in no mood to hear it.

I remained car bound and checked my phone. Stalling, stalling, stalling. She didn’t move and neither did I. My dog watched through the living room window, probably thinking, "Oh brother...humans..."

I finally cracked the car door open and headed for my house, fiddling with my purse and avoiding eye contact with this woman.

And then, half way to my front door, the inevitable.

“Excuse me,” she said.

Yeah, I heard her, loud and clear, and I couldn’t very well ignore her. I dug deep for my polite self.

“Yes?” I finally answered.

“I just wanted to ask you..."

Ugh. Here goes.

“…what's that stunning red flower in your yard?”

What, no lecture, no judgement? In disbelief and relief, I blurted out everything I know about the crocosmia, which was hovering prominently, gorgeously, above the tangle of the rest of my yard. Hummingbirds...um...the hummingbirds love it, I stammered!

All this woman saw was what was currently in bloom. All I thought she saw was my failure to keep a respectable yard.

I often assume I know what others are thinking, and that's not completely bad. Making an educated guess about what others think streamlines communication, suggests sensitivity to those around us, and can prevent conflict. But when that guess is based more on my own concerns or mood (remember, my yard bothers me) than on any evidence, I'm just making up stories.

The thing is, we listen to the stories we tell ourselves. If I tell myself people are critical and negative, I’m more defensive. If I tell myself people are usually friendly and doing the best they can, I’m more open and willing to engage.

If this woman had not stopped my eyes-down progress toward my front door, I would continue to assume she, and possibly others, disapprove of my messy yard. In fact, what she said made my day and reminded me to be more open.

P.S. The devilish flower is, specifically, Crocosmia Lucifer. And I have no idea what my dog was really thinking. It was probably something about food.