Our eastern neighbors are … well, kind of reclusive. We almost never see them, inside or out. Occasionally they have a door open while watching football, during which games we can hear them hooting and hollering.
They have a very small back yard, it being a wedge into the corner of the circle. There’s a humongous cottonwood in the center of their back yard, which means that they very quickly in the autumn get up to their elbows in leaves.
So this year, the gentleman of the house appears to have gotten a leaf blower/vacuum.
Now, I don’t know if he’s afraid of cranking it beyond “1,” or if he’s got too many things plugged into that power socket, or what, but he doesn’t seem to be … ah … making much progress.
Indeed, he seems to spend hours at a time — hours at a time — blowing a little bitty square clear of leaves. Back and forth. Whoooooooooooooooooooooosh. Back and forth. Blowing. One. Leaf. At. A. Time.
Occasionally he puts it on vacuum.
Whoooooooooooooooooooooosh. Flrp-flrp-flrp. There goes a leaf. One. Leaf. Whoooooooooooooooosh.
For. Hours. At.
A.
Time.
Whooooooooooooooooooooooosh.
He’s Back!