More thoughts on the "public easement" issue

In my first post, I mentioned that a local Mormon lady was complaining about me planting grape vines on the "public easement." She is also purported to have said that the city is "not going to let them get away with this." This interests me on so many levels.

1. I am in violation of no Kaysville City codes. But if this neighbor would like to file an official complaint with the city, the number is 801-546-1241.

2. Kaysville is perhaps the world capital of right-wing, John Birch Society, Glenn Beck-loving, conservative, tea-partying Republicanism (want evidence? My "OBAMA '08" yard sign was stolen during the '08 election; I had to chain the replacement sign to my tree). These people rant and rave about the intrusion of the government in their personal lives, with their pretty yellow "Don't Tread On Me" flags and their "Keep Your Government Hand Off My Medicare" protest signs. I guess I shouldn't be surprised that they are blind to the irony of wanting the city to tell me what I can or cannot plant on my private property.

3. We are talking about GRAPES here, people. Not pot. Not opium. Not anthrax. GRAPES.

4. Come to think of it, they would probably be less upset by anthrax than they are by wine grapes. Anthrax is not officially listed as a prohibited substance in the Word of Wisdom, after all, and wine is.

5. Denial ain't just a river... Many Utah Mormons (and the Kaysville variety in particular) have an impressive capacity to pretend that the world is what they want it to be, despite evidence to the contrary staring them in the face. The neighbors complaining about my little vineyard (which, still, by the way, has no vines) would probably be less upset if it were not visible from the street. Because they have to see it when they drive by my house every day, it's harder for them to pretend it doesn't exit. Poor things...

6. If my agitated Mormon neighbor is reading this, let me assure you, these grape vines will be the prettiest, most well-tended symbols of drunken excess you have ever seen. Three years from now, when I finally get ripe grapes from them and make wine, I would love to let you have a taste. I promise not to tell your bishop. It'll just be between you and me...