A Strange Pattern
It wasn’t long before I realized that our tree wasn’t the only one.
Walking the dog through the neighborhood, I started noticing them everywhere. Some were small saplings with just a few bottles. Others were tall trees, their branches heavy with dozens of sparkling blues, greens, and even the occasional amber bottle.
It felt deliberate. Like an unspoken code that everyone understood—except me.
The more I saw them, the more curious I became. Why would so many people in this neighborhood choose to do the same unusual thing? Was it some kind of art project? A quirky homeowner’s association rule? Or something deeper?
