He plays his music at an outrageous volume; in winter I can hear it through closed windows and hefty snow banks. In summer, he floods my yard with noise. We have to speak loudly on our own deck to have a conversation.
I cherish music, and wouldn't mind sharing his tastes, if I could hear anything but the bass. He must love bass; it overpowers the words, the melody, everything. I can feel the thumps reverberating in my skull and down my spine.
But, he does have a beautiful yard, and it is a pleasure to walk by his gardens.
I complained to a friend about the pounding sound pollution and voiced the wish that he would move. She cautioned me to be careful what I wished for. And she was correct.
The neighbor sold his home and there are new folks living in the noisy house with the gorgeous yard. All is quiet now, feels peaceful, except for last week. The new neighbor went out to his yard with some friends and together they began ripping at his trees with a hand saw and trimmers.
Of course, all of this is none of my business. I know that. A neighborhood is really a village of people who need to respect and tolerate each other, so I will, and I do.
Still, how can anyone cut down a tree so lovely? I don't understand.
And, I must be more careful what I wish for.