Anyway, it's 10:20 at night, Pioneer Day Eve and this guy down the street is mowing his lawn, or something. All I know is there is a lawn mower sounding engine noise that seems oddly out of place after dark on a dead end street in a town of less than 200 people.
????????
My upstairs housemate has also been noticing this phenomenon. We startled each other a few minutes ago in the dark kitchen and then proceeded to have a conversation about what kind of business this sound has emanating into the night, into our precious quiet. The best we can figure is it has something to do with Pioneer Day. Maybe this person finds it very important to have a well manicured lawn on the dawn of the special day, which is why this chore could not wait until tomorrow morning to be completed. Unfortunately, this seems like a reasonable explanation to both of us.
One more thing - when one gazes out the door and looks down the road toward this noise, one will notice that there is also an ATV involved. Our explanation there is that the lawn mower needs light to see, and what better light out there than the headlights of a strategically placed ATV? Certainly better than the sun.
One more thing - when one gazes out the door and looks down the road toward this noise, one will notice that there is also an ATV involved. Our explanation there is that the lawn mower needs light to see, and what better light out there than the headlights of a strategically placed ATV? Certainly better than the sun.
Curious indeed, Ms. Sauce. Perhaps this warrants an investigation, or a commentary in the Wayne County Insider. My theory is that the mower sound is a generator somehow powering the gleeful, good-hearted nature of Pioneer Day. If we were to silence it, Utah would never be the same again.
ReplyDeleteRegardless, one thing is for sure: Happy Pioneer Day!!!
or maybe there are zombie thistles that spring up from their unholy earth craving cellulose brains, so they have to mow off their zombie thistle tops in order to save all of plant kingdomdom.
ReplyDeleteor maybe the guy was born on a mower and that's his special primal place to go and find solitude when the fast pace of teasdale becomes too much for him to bear.
or maybe teasdale is just filled with gun-toting, lawn mowing, individualists with quirky behaviors.
Perhaps ya'll can start a new tradition of Pioneer Day Eve, which begins by using a chainsaw to trim the scapes under the light of the moon? A wreath made of roughly-hewn scapes has never failed to save me from zombie thistles.
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