Conspicuous Consumption

Dear You,

My customary morning walk is uphill in the beginning. That way the end of the trip is something I really look forward to. A nearby winery has given that neighborhood its name: Vineyard Hill. I walk by three-car garages and long, rolling lawns, and the cars that pass me are similarly big -- SUVs, their colors ranging from white to black without anything from the rainbow in between, but invariably driven by a woman. She provides the color, and makes me think of a bouquet inside a box. Ponytail tosses a wave on her way to the grocery store, gunning the engine out of her driveway, and I plod on.

It is toward the middle of the walk when I get my reward. Among all the other 5br4bath homes sits one that truly stands out. It is a festival of lawn decoration. Full-size bronze horses, one pulling a bronze trotter cart, scatter about the yard. Twirling boys and girls, all metal, dance among the bushes, near -- unaccountably -- several wire-sculpted deer. Gazing globes, elves, windmills, assorted wildlife creatures . . . too much to record here! Near the house stand several Greek-inspired columns surrounding an enormous globe, with a fountain going most days. Each item by itself might be worthy of study -- these things are clearly expensive. But the assemblage is a chaos of different scales, colors, and types.

When I was a child, I delighted in a newspaper drawing that challenged me to find "What is Wrong with this Picture?" A photograph of this house would be similarly interesting. I speculate what the neighbors think.

And I wonder: what does it say about someone who must give this much publicity to his wealth?