Yes, my parents have pink flamingos in the front yard. No, they didn’t buy them. They came home one day from errands to find the pair upright in the middle of our professional landscaping. Thinking it must’ve been a familial joke, they called everyone with a like-minded sense of humor. However, no one claimed to be the brains behind the gesture but applauded it nontheless (which says so much about my family).
I’ve made clear my opinion on the [tacky, white trash] ornamentation, yet every time I come home they’re there to greet me… any hour of the day or night, in rain, sunshine, sleet or, most recently, a blizzard. They’re like feathered, one-legged mailmen. But the Moseleys uphold a neighborly open-door policy and, sadly, it doesn’t exclude abandoned plastic lawn art.
One of them is clearly hoping for a V8 or is thinking there’s something to that “south for the winter” thing after all. My money’s on the latter.