Several weeks ago, I woke up with a start to what sounded like a plane narrowly missing our backyard. As I attempted to wipe drool from my mouth and de-crust my eyes, my sleep-drunken brain ventured a weak thought of, "Well, the air-raids have begun again; time to leave the city." A few moments later, my brain became sufficiently coherent to realize that it was not London circa 1944, and I simultaneously noticed that this plane was repeatedly passing my house--loudly.
Ah, the joys of living next to farmland. It's scenic, it's nature-tastic, but I never before realized that it took two whole weeks to cropdust a single field.
He's back again, that low-flying agricultural hotdogger, for the third--fourth?--time this month. Since it's so--ahem--early, the sun was behind of him and I didn't get a good shot of the offender. Maybe--a wild thought, this--he should do this sort of thing in the afternoon, when no normal person is sleeping. This cropdusting from 7-10am is killer for those of us trying to get one last hour of shuteye during it.
Enjoy the experience yourself, courtesy of Starr's Nosy Cameraphone.
1 comment:
You can imagine how I would respond to such an awakening! I don't think I'd mind it, much. This Saturday, I'm sure I'll get little sleep, due to the Abilene AirFest happening very nearly in my backyard.
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