I buried chicken wire beneath the grass—just enough to bite back. Days later, her tire burst. She screamed, I sipped tea. Her retaliation came in the form of a legal letter. But after a county survey confirmed she’d been trespassing, I sent a detailed folder to her lawyer with one message: “Respect goes both ways.” Her case was dropped. But I wasn’t done. I installed a motion-activated sprinkler hidden in my daisies. Next time she crossed the line, it blasted her and her Lexus in a glorious spray. She never drove over my lawn again. Later,
her husband brought me a lavender plant as a peace offering. “You taught her a lesson I couldn’t,” he said. In the end, it wasn’t just about protecting a patch of grass. It was about reclaiming my space, my peace, and my self-worth. Healing doesn’t always come gently—sometimes it sprays, sometimes it stings. But if it helps you bloom again? It’s worth it.
