Tales of fearless reporting are starting to come in. I will post them in chronological order as the epic battles between yard artist and field reporters are relayed to the home office.
I feel compelled, once I've dented a mailbox and risked life and limb, to blow up the picture to be sure I'm seeing all the fine details. The glaring guy at this door was at least dressed... just the other day a beer bellied fellow yelled at me in just his underwear. I'm ashamed to say my camera froze and I missed capturing the moment.
Found the typical "grandmother's" house. I take the photo. Zoom in and take another photo. My sweetie puts the jeep into reverse -
"Where are you going?" I ask.
"There is stuff on the other side."
I take another photo and notice "grandma" is in the door. Probably a good time to move along.
Cruise through the neighborhood, take some more photos until... We turn onto one of the main streets to decide which street to view when an suv type vehicle swerves at us and stops. I am thinking it is just another tourist looking for the river. "Um, what are y'all doing? My mother called and said you were taking pictures of her house," the guy says.
Yikes!! Fast talking..... My sweetie, "We are taking pictures of yard art." The guy looks puzzled.
I quickly join in with "You know, birdbaths, statues, ducks... We aren't even looking at the houses. We take picture of the yard art." I hold up my camera and offer "Do you want to see the photos?"
He says, "Oh, Ok. My mom lives alone and saw you taking pictures." We quickly apologize and move along.
I think I would suffer through barbed wire anyday...