Flat-screened computer monitor and various power cords

I'm not very interested in that stuff - though I bet it'll be gone shortly. 

I'd like to describe the bench in question since most of you have never seen it.  It is made of cobb.  In addition to being a neighborhood of tall bikes, we are a neighborhood of cobb things.  For 10-plus years now, several local organizations have gotten together every April-May and built structures out of cobb in neighborhoods that have gone on record saying they'd like something to make their neighborhood more of a community.  These local organizations then instruct said neighborhood on how to build a cobb kiosk (for hanging up fliers about neighborhood events: garage sales, potlucks), cobb book exchanges (a kiosk built specifically for the books that neighbors want to pass along), and cobb benches.  We live within throwing distance of cobb benches shaped like a mermaid, a dragon, and a sea serpent.  The building that houses the food co-op we belong to is made partly from cobb.

G---- and I felt a great allure from these projects.  G---- took K--- and L---- when they were two and four-and-a-half, respectively, to help mix the cobb for the co-op - a process that involves stomping to mix the ingredients.  We looked into what it would take to get the local groups to come help our neighborhood with a bench.  It involved much paperwork and signatures from 80% of our block expressing support.  That seemed an unlikely number to reach, given the apartments that occupy part of this block.  Then G---- and I realized that if we built our neighborhood bench right next to the sidewalk on our property rather than on city property, we could just build it - without anybody having to sign anything (isn't America great?).  It would be our summer project, a family project.  We'd spread the materials out on the sidewalk and stomp away.  People would be intrigued and ask to come stomp a little as well.  The very act of our stomping and building would attract our neighbors and it would become their bench, too.  Harmony would reign.

Nice dream.  The kids weren't interested, and they were young enough that both G---- and I couldn't have our feet covered in cobb at the same time if we wanted to supervise our kids appropriately.  It quickly became G----'s project.  (And, really, remember, I sometimes enjoy more the appearance of being a cobb bench person than actually being a cobb bench person.)

Cobb is dirt, sand and water with a binder - in the case of our bench, hair.  Hair from my hair stylist at the time.  One day's worth of clients' hair that ended up on her floor got worked into our cobb.  The bench itself is the color of - well, dirt.  The seat is deep, and the back and armrests thick but low.  It's not an especially good bench for leaning back on.  It is great for sitting perched on the edge or cross-legged.  G---- built a blue awning held up by thick branches cut from our hazelnut tree.  It looks like a wing attached to tree bones, ready to take flight.  The awning covers the bench when it rains and shades it in the sun.  We've planted a couple blueberry bushes on the east end of the bench.  Beyond the blueberries, a feathery bush with white flowers was planted in the berm long before we got here.  To the slight west is a hawthorn tree, which provides its own shade.  Behind and on all sides is low, green leafiness that at times sports fuzzy yellow flowers.  G---- believes this is St. John's Wort.  I am equally convinced it is not.

I noticed the flat-screened computer monitor at 8:00 this morning.  When I returned home after picking the kids up from sculpture camp, it was gone.  The bench is still here, as are the blueberry bushes (spindly though they are), the hawthorn tree, the St. John's Whatever, and the blue-winged flying machine.  All built to last.