View Covenant (Late April)
It might as well be gated, this seaward sloping patch of land, administered by the municipality, paved and policed at public expense, appearances notwithstanding. The sales tax and the lodging tax enrich the soil. They broadcast a mild rainwashed perfume, rhododendron and plum, a few last camellias, the landscapers discrete and professional; they can english well if circumstances call for it. No leafblower here, not much internal combustion of any kind, a passing patrol car maybe. Electric sedans and electric coupes, lozenges in various shades of gray, lie snug in their carports, chargers charging within spec, little chance of a battery fire, at least not without litigation. The neatly trimmed grass grows luxuriant, without balding, the flowering shrubs, flowering trees grow luxuriant, but only to a certain height. Sightlines also instigate litigation—suit and countersuit, brother wars between those who have pull at city hall. The vegetation grows decapitate, or rounded into calm topiary forms, no animals, nothing whimsical like that, only making space (we have to make space) for a mild intermittent breeze blowing landward.