It certainly was a lovely afternoon for most of a walk around the neighborhood. I remained comfortable, temperature-wise, with jeans and a short-sleeved t-shirt layered over a long-sleeved tee.
Many area residents took advantage of the unseasonably warm and sunny Sunday to catch up on yard work, something I’ll be tending to momentarily, myself. My ambulation would have been idyllic but for the existence of leaf blowers.
I went through one of my favorite parks, across one of my favorite foot bridges, the site of many fond memories for me over the past fifteen years. It is truly one of my happy places. There’s something about the spot, standing on that bridge, I find renewing. It’s a little pocket of peace. Usually.
Why? Why do leaf blowers even exist? I could hear this one running from 2 1/2 blocks away. Even then, I’m not sure if I was out of range of the noise or if the person using it had turned it off. Considering the length of time it was running, I’m not even sure where they were blowing the leaves to. In fact, I always wonder that.
What is even the purpose of making a huge racket, burning a lot of gas, disrupting the insects that play crucial roles in the natural cycle of life, and disturbing everyone’s afternoon, all so you can blow leaves from one place to another? Any readers who use one, I beg you to stop now.
Later in my walk, I encountered a woman who was clearing fallen leaves from the sidewalk in front of her house by using a push broom. The sound was so pleasant, the shoosh, shoosh, shoosh, blending nicely with a little birdsong and a bicycle bell. It was calming for my nerves, as opposed to jangling.
I don’t want to turn this post too political, but I am looking ahead to the major elections coming up a year from now. I’m pretty sure my vote can be won by any candidate who pledges to ban leaf blowers.