Ah.
7.30am.
First morning in the quiet, peaceful and well-treed countryside.
'RrrrrrrrrrCrkChkCrrrrrkArrrrrrrghk!' said the mulcher.
'ArrrrRrrrRrrrRrrrrr!' said a chainsaw, soon echoed by a twin.
'Urghk' said the new resident awakened from her much needed slumber. And 'whaddefark!!!?' said she as she gazed out the window to see one of the giant trees of her neighbour's yard slowly cut to pieces. More such noises arose from her throat (not that she could hear them over the thunderous wailing and crunching noises) as she watched a few more trees completely disappear. Although, the said new resident did find the irony - of moving to the countryside for the peacefulness and the trees - a little amusing once she had recovered from the initial shock.
Equally amusing was the cowboy attitudes of the chopper-upperer and his supportive partner with great vocal projection somewhere down below. The cowboy hanging from the giant tree had his chainsaw slung like a loosely tethered shotgun, gently swinging below him as he moved to various branches. I realised the occasional wafts of smoke drifting from his face were due to his durry-filled gob as I saw him hop down to a lower branch, swing up his chainsaw and grind through the base neatly. As the severed branch was drifting gently down to the ground at the end of its noose he dropped his chainsaw to swing below his buttocks and took a final deep drag of his ciggie, deftly putting it out on the fresh wound of the tree before dropping the butt to the ground. Throughout this production of masculine ability his pal below was shouting loving encouragements: "Yeah mate! That's beautiful! Yeehaaaaaw!!! You're doing great! Beautiful, just beautiful! Love your work! Woohooo!!!". Boy, was I wishing for a hefty dose of whatever medication he was on.
In the following days not only did I have further moments where I felt the desire for such happy-making meds, but I also arrived at the firm conclusion that another neighbour's dog was in desperate need of such drugs. 'AaaYipYipYipYip! AiAiiiAiiiYipYipYip! AaYipYipRooYipRooooYipYip!!!' This was around 3am a couple of times. Sounding like it had been suddenly (yet frequently) greatly surprised and come under attack and wasn't at all happy about it. Turns out this is just how the dog barks. He's found the tune of hysteria and stuck with it. Reckons he's onto a good thing obviously. Another neighbour vociferously disagrees in much more masculine tones. The dog could really learn something from him (if it wants to be fearsome that is).
Another neighbour is learning the art of drumming, and it seems another neighbour is delving into the art of DJ-ing as doof-doof brandishes resolutely through the air in sudden stops and starts.
But... I've realised, this is just what happens when a dream becomes reality. Reality survives. There's no getting away from it.
As I sit here now I look out onto my back garden and at many, many trees. I can see and hear the chirping melodies of birds. There's occasional distant traffic. There's quiet. And there's the neighbour's gentle strumming of a guitar.* It's absolutely beautiful.
* Plus, regardless of the drums, they're quite lovely people.
