Spring is going to get here. Which means it will soon be time to get the ol' lawnmower out. Add some fresh fuel...mutter a short prayer that it will start "just one more time, hope..hope...hope".
A couple of sputters, a puff of blue smoke and the curtain will have risen on the new lawn care season.
Now in the suburbs if you hear one lawnmower you'll hear a dozen. The brain circuitry of the suburban male homeowner is wired such that the moment a mower 'fires up' anywhere within earshot he is compelled to utter the obvious.
It will sound something like..."Uh oh, whatzhizname's doing his lawn...guess I better get out there too". At which time he'll now go and start up his own lawn mower. And so on it goes repeating from yard to yard. It overtakes the whole street before spilling into the next neighbourhood.
And just when it looks like the entire city could be awash in mower noise this viral chain of events is suddenly broken as it reaches the ears of a slightly mutated version of the same suburbanite, otherwise pre-occupied with an equally powerful ritual, worshipping at an alter of stainless steel...the BBQ. It's a delicate system of checks and balances that has evolved over decades of Saturdays.
This pic is another shot taken directly from my bench. A work in progress, it's a rock that has been 'ground' smooth on the reverse side enabling it to hang flat on a wall or fence.