Encroachment

Two of our good friends recently purchased a home. Yesterday was move in day. Their house has over a half acre of land. In most parts of the U.S.,  a half acre is nothing, but in NJ it is considered palatial estate space. Half of an acre! 

The lawn was miraculously bright emerald green, despite the recent lack of rainfall. There were not really fences in the neighborhood and the houses were spaced apart so that privacy was a reality.

I don't think John notices it, but I zone in so much on the noises of my neighborhood. During the weekdays, I hear three or four different sanitation companies' trucks riding up and down our street. That beeping noise that indicates a backing up motion of the truck aggravates me. I zone in on my neighbor training his dog to run back and forth across the small expanse of the backyard. I notice the intermittent stop-and-go of the postal office delivery truck. I hear weed whackers, lawn mowers, and so on. Most of the noise is machine-made, not human-made.

I don't see myself as the rural/country type, but you never know your thresholds until you experience them. I'm looking forward to an eventual next phase in life---where I feel like I can go outside, breathe, exhale, and not hear noise. There has to be some nature enthusiast hidden somewhere inside of me.