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August 08, 2006
During this time of the year, I often lament about what I call the "sounds of summer". Nostalgia might lead you to think of birds singing, bees buzzing and children laughing. Unfortunately, the sounds of summer are now the droning of lawnmowers, buzzing of string trimmers, chatter of hedge trimmers, and roaring of leaf blowers, occasionally punctuated by the maddening repetition of "Turkey In The Straw" from the ice cream truck. Who in the world actually buys that overpriced garbage? Please stop so that I can retain my sanity.
It is frustrating to hear the constant sound of machines related to lawn maintenance all weekend long when I would like to enjoy being outdoors. If it is not the neighbor next to me, then it is the one behind me, or the one on the other side of the street, or even down the block. Those things are LOUD! On the rare occasion that everyone is taking a break at the same time, it is so nice to hear the birds and insects chittering and chattering as they go about the business of living. It is almost startling to realize that you are hearing something that is not the result of an engine running or a speaker moving. Benia plays a version of "Name That Tune" by trying to name the bird or bug that happens to be on stage at that moment. Not having an ear for such things, I am content to just sit and let the symphony of nature play for me.
Even if someone doesn't truly appreciate the natural sounds of summer, I find it hard it to believe that anyone prefers the roar of a lawnmower. I have seen confusing evidence to the contrary though. There are those who mow twice in one week, but more astounding is the double mow. This is where the same patch of lawn is mowed twice in a single day. This creates that "perfect" green carpet look with not a blade of grass out of place. I suppose they consider this quite an achievement, but I see it as a complete waste of time and resources.
I wish that more people would consider transforming their yards into native suburbia. It is a lot of work, but it is quiet work. Benia and I enjoy conversing while we spend time together in the yard. The isolation chamber that one steps into when operating a lawnmower is lonely and unpleasant. Avoidance of that torture was the catalyst for creation of Native Suburbia. Now we often lose track of time as we identify plants and pull weeds, while talking of future plans for the yard, trying to imagine what wonders nature will provide in the coming years. And of course enjoying those rare moments when we can hear the true sounds of summer.
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