Last night my neighbors celebrated a special birthday with a dinner dance, complete with D.J., dance floor and tent. The latter turned out to be necessary since we had torrential rain and flood warnings just hours ahead of the event. But by the time the guests were gathering, the rain had stopped and the hosts had laid out a white carpet over the grass that led up to the tent entrance … and I felt like I was entering an alternative universe. 

It wasn’t just how the tent transformed the yard with soft greens and fairy lights. It was that the event transformed neighbors from people who chat about how deer are eating their hostas into people with careers and travels and families out of state, in short, into fully rounded human beings. 

I have a theory about my neighborhood, where houses are tucked away on wooded lots and there’s a scale and beauty lacking in many suburban enclaves. People don’t move here for showy homes. They move here because they like the woods and fields. It’s a value that translates into many other admirable qualities.  Last night reminded me of those. 

(The tent that transformed our backyard for Suzanne and Appolinaire’s wedding.)