Rant

It is often said that summers in Lincoln are peaceful. People are away, there is less traffic, beautiful farm fields, quiet evenings. You have the place to yourself.

Not so. Lincoln is one big construction site. Last summer our neighbors put in a large flagstone terrace with stone steps cascading down to a play yard for their kids. They had an in ground sprinkler system installed. The sound of backhoes and cutting stone lasted for months. Now as their little girls dance merrily down the wide stone steps to their swing set which is surrounded by mechanically watered plants, our neighbors up the hill are installing terrace all around their house and a new driveway, edged with cobblestones.

The machinery used is way out of scale for the project. In the old days, Italian stone masons lay each slab of stone by hand with pride. A wheel barrow and shovel were all that were needed. Now backhoes beep and workers yell over the sound of the diesel engine. As for the diesel engine, a layer of exhaust fumes hovers over the house next door. Even on Saturday.

On the other side of our place, I hear the whirr of weed wackers obliterating any random plant that might not fit the manicured setting. On Weston Road, our tax dollars are paying for a strange machine that has an arm on one side that tears off the tops of whatever is growing, leaving hacked off limbs and brush. A brush hog.

Two bridges are being rebuilt over the historic Sudbury River which we cross every time we drive to our neighboring town of Concord. The road is being ripped up also and water mains replaced. A quick trip to the store has to be carefully planned on back roads to get there in a reasonable amount of time avoiding the constuction crews who spend most of their time leaning on shovels and talking while we wait.

So much improvement on all sides. I’ll admit that one summer we replaced one side of our foundation wall. It was loud...for a week. Now the only sounds you will hear on our two acre lot is the sound of laundry drying in the sun or my stealth electric car easing up the driveway. And the occasional call of the wild when Calley spies the mail truck.

What has happened to quiet? How far away do we have to go to be free of the noise of progress? Distant hammering blends in with the crickets. The continuous noise of the backhoe shatters my nerves. And soon it will be fall. Time for leaf blowers.