I thanked her.
Three days later, the president appeared at my gate.
She drove a white luxury SUV.
She wore a pale pink blazer and white trousers.
Her sunglasses probably cost more than the electric mower in my shed.
I was repairing an irrigation line when she arrived.
She didn't introduce herself.
She simply looked over my property and asked, "Are you the owner?"
I stood.
"Yes."
She examined my light-blue work shirt, muddy boots, and faded jeans.
Her expression suggested she was disappointed.
"I was expecting to speak with the person responsible for this property."
"You're speaking to him."
She frowned.
"Well, then. We have a problem."
I wiped my hands on a rag.
"What's the problem?"
"Your trees are encroaching on our community landscaping."
I glanced toward the orchard.
"The trees have been here since before your community existed."
"That isn't relevant."
"It is to me."
She removed a folder from her handbag.
"Willow Creek has appearance standards."
"I'm sure it does."
"And those standards protect property values."
"Good for Willow Creek."
Her mouth tightened.
"I'm trying to have a civil conversation."
"So am I."
She pointed toward the peach tree.
"Those branches are unsightly."
I looked at the tree.
Healthy green leaves.
Early blossoms.
Strong branches.
An old trunk twisting slightly toward the morning sun.
"Looks beautiful to me."
She sighed.
"Of course it does."
Something about the way she said it made me look directly at her.
"What does that mean?"
"Nothing."
"No. Go ahead."
She smiled thinly.
"Some people simply have different expectations for their surroundings."
I folded the rag.
"Then I'd suggest you enjoy your surroundings and leave mine alone."
Her eyes narrowed.
"You're being unnecessarily difficult."
"I'm being accurate."
She pointed toward the stone wall.
"That boundary is also unacceptable."
I looked at it.
"What's wrong with the wall?"
"It doesn't match our community's approved architectural character."