The Sounds of August

Lately the early mornings have been crisp and cool, with the dew glistening on the lawns. The dawn sky is quiet, sunny and deep blue. Before the workaday stirrings of those cursed creatures called "the employed," the air is still. Saturated with the perfume of pine and pungent herbs. And the whispered promise of an abundant harvest.

You can almost hear Autumn coming down the tracks in the near distance like a rumbling westbound freight train.

Wait!
That really is the sound of a train! A tandem team of six big diesel engines pulling a long train of container cars, from the sound of it, probably loaded with Chinese imports headed inexorably for the heartland, or up to Montreal.

My house is just two streets over from the main rail line that handles all the Conrail and Amtrak traffic from Boston's South Station to Worcester and points beyond. When you live near the tracks, you get used to the noise. In fact, most of the time you are not conscious of the passing rail traffic. Like the other sounds in the distance, like birds chirping, dogs barking, lawn mowers, trucks in the street, the trains add to an ambient sound level that you do not notice until they use that high decibel horn. Last year, the Woodlawn Ave bridge was being repaired and every train that went by in either direction sounded the horn to warn workers who might be near the tracks. It made me notice how many trains went past. We are probably talking fifty trips a day, not counting the ones that go by at night.

The trains are the least of my noise problems. Since Spring there has been a crew working on the house next door. Each day brings another big noisy diesel vehicle to dig or deliver or pour concrete or pick up a dumpster or whatever. No one ever turns off a diesel engine, so most of the day there is an idling engine running. The nail guns are driven by a compressor that rattles like a chain saw. So all day you hear this pfft, pfft, phfft, groink, buzz, ghmmmm, phfft,phfft, Outch! Hey I'm bleedin here! (The last sound was the fat carpenter shooting a nail through his boot. Ha ha)
Then across the street, they have been replacing the back deck. It takes a lot of banging to properly replace a deck, apparently. And, not to be outdone, they also need a big idling diesel truck to haul away and bring fresh dumpsters.

In the white house on the other side, the widow lady likes to have here carpets and ducts cleaned. She prefers the work to be done by a crew who come in a huge noisy truck which not only idles noisily, but also runs a high-pressure compressor that is so loud you can no doubt hear it from the engine compartment of a westbound train.

Some times the UPS and Fedex drivers have trouble driving down the street because there are so many vehicles parked on both sides allowing only a narrow passage. Delivery trucks, Landscape vehicles, pickup trucks driven by construction workers and sloppily parked. This is not an urban setting, readers, this is a "quiet" suburban road.

Some days, I think to myself, "Wouldn't it be nice to go to a nice quiet office where you can sit at a nice quiet desk and spend the day getting paid for surfing the web like most employed people?"

Nah. Someday, the construction work will be finished, the workers and their trucks will go somewhere else, all ducts and rugs will be clean, the lawns will be mowed, and I will again be able to sit in the peaceful solitude of my back yard, with a frosty Sierra Nevada, listening for the sound of Autumn.