Ear pollution --where can one go to escape?

 

 

 

 

 With the late January and early February warmth, I’ve been wanting to sit out in the porch swing (facing east and south). And I have done that a time or three. My ears must still be good as I am “coming into eighty”-- as May Sarton titled one of her books—because the shrill, constantly-yipping dog across the street is becoming more than I like to bear. Or hear. Oh, sure, it’s on the backside of their property, but sound on our road carries.

Ear plugs, you reckon? But I hate ear plugs. If earplugs won’t filter out dormitory snoring, why should I expect it to help with the high pitches of a dog’s constant barking?

 

I could devise a sit-out area in the back of the house, yes, and I’ve done that a time or two, especially early in the mornings before human life stirs. On weekends, and after school, however, three teenagers usually begin playing with their ATV on the street west of here. Vroom, vroom, vroom, grind, rumble, etc.
 

Grumble, grumble. Woman, stay inside your house. Get used to it. Think of how the noise level will rise when the new subdivision immediately north of you is full of families. Deal with it! It could be worse.

I stay inside during most of the winter. Wind chimes keep me grounded, hopeful.

But this early, spring-like weather is a siren’s call to “come out, come out wherever you are.” Come see the japonica blooming pink! Come see the daffodil foliage shooting up! Come see the privet that’s flaunting (reminds me of Mr. Trump) its hardiness and hard-to-kill demeanor. (I’ll run you daffodils over. Unless that pestiferous woman who lives here gets me first. Ow, ow, that hurts….)

I could open my window, put the radio in it, turn the volume up enough to stifle the dog barks, but that would worsen my quest for solitude—and it might bother the below-the-hill neighbors like they sometimes do me.

I could make a sitting area at the south of the house where the bird feeder and birdbath are, but would I discourage my fine, blue, red and brown feathered friends (who are fine until they cover my sitting-out car with their splats of undigested seeds and weeds.)

(Eight-thirty at night, and the dog still barks.) Maybe that’s why some folks keep the TV on—to mask other noises. Inside, yes, I can turn on the music—and often, I do, but no TV noise (or commercials or anything else) for me.

Ear pollution I DO like—when the dog is quiet and I can hear it—is the rumble of trains passing beyond the next town--about eight miles away. I’ve always liked that sound, even as a child when I stayed the night with Grandma near Mount Carmel. I don’t mind sounds of planes; I love the sounds of rain and thunder, and some types of wind. (How does that dog have enough strength left after its incessant barking? It stops neither to eat or drink, I swear!)

             
Now that my rant is over, the blasted dog quits barking. Thank goodness.