How much more pleasant it would be to write about the daffodils that are pushing through the soil in the woods in front of my house; the increase in birdsong and bird feeding (as the grackles have moved on) among the trees, and the family discussions about where we should plant apple trees. But no. All of these pastoral interests are pushed into spring's Junior Varsity by the noise of the seasonal arrivals.
First the leaf-blowers have returned. Various machines carried on huge truck-towed trailers driven by miniscule men of dubious documentation (let the reader understand) which announce the tradition of the spring clean-up. Everywhere. Trying to muster thoughts for a few letters, not to mention the Palm Sunday sermon, I was, this afternoon, driven out of my office by two such leaf-blowers in the adjacent yard. I came home to find exactly the same. Noise, and the smell of gasoline.
Second, the personal jets. Three today, making approach and landing at East Hampton airport. Surely carrying CEOs, celebrities, certainly wealthy and privileged people who publicly are scrutinized, and are accountable for their attitudes towards the environment. Yet below them, on earth, all we can smell is jet fuel. Ah well. I'm sure they are important enough in their own way, and supported by their own corporate followers, to be able to do such odorous things.
Oh, and did I mention something more important than these rare people? We have seen more early cardinals this year.