The Low Spark of High Field Toys
The season of misery is upon me. Heat, bugs, noise, sweat. I’m counting the days until fireplace and football season.
I’ve covered this ground before. But one thing I have always been able to tolerate during summer is a spectacular thunderstorm. It’s kind of exciting to watch dark clouds roll in, hear the rumble of distant thunder and see bolts of high voltage light up the sky. The accompanying heavy rains are also good for my lawn, marigolds and tomato plants.
The dry months have meant no genuine celestial celebrations. Yeah, we’ve had a few showers during July, but not a real chocolate-thunder-flying, Robinzine-crying, teeth-shaking, glass-breaking, rump-roasting, bun-toasting, wham-bam thunderjam all summer.
Lawns all over the Capital Region are dry and tan. I haven’t had to mow my lawn in three weeks, and even the weeds are struggling. Nobody else has revved up, either.
That’s kind of a good thing. It’s one of my minor quibbles about summer, all those mowers. Some people in my neighborhood take about an hour to cut their lawns. They must like the engine noise. Me, I have my back and front grass done in about 20 minutes. It also seems that on weekends, one guy finishes his lawn and another guy is just starting. I’d love to suggest that folks mow their lawns at the same time every weekend — we could get rid of all the noise at the same time — but I think my neighbors would suggest I visit a lunatic asylum.
With fewer lawn mowers on the job, at least we’re saving gallons and gallons of gasoline. But I sure hope we get a solid couple days of rain.
As it stands now, I’m missing the noise from the sky. Not missing the noise from the ground at all.