Growing up, there were so many little kids in our family that my mother "encouraged" me to take a nap every day til I went off to kindergarten. Many days, I can remember lying there, wondering why she had sent me to bed in the middle of the day when I wasn't the least bit tired. Other days, though, I can remember being lulled to sleep by the gentle hum of the vacuum cleaner as my mom went through her daily house cleaning routine.
In those days, we lived in the small town of Ontario, NY. I have another memory of those years that's also related to falling asleep. On summer nights, we'd play outside til dark. Then, after coming in to have a bath, it was off to bed. I can remember lying in bed in the dark, listening to the distant roar of the race cars at Spencer Speedway waft in through my open bedroom windows. I don't know how far away Spencer Speedway was from our house. It was in Williamson, the next town over, so it must have been at least a mile or two. But, this was the country so the sound carried pretty well.
Just like the vacuum cleaner, that comforting hum of the race cars helped put me to sleep many times. Lying there in bed, about to fall asleep, I never imagined that, one day, I'd have my own speedway. But, I do. My good friend Wally decided to make me one this winter.
Wally and Ginger are on an electric fence. It rings the yard, keeping the dogs about 3 feet inside our property boundary. This winter, Wally has decided that it's his God-given responsibility to patrol the yard. Over and over, round and round he goes. Instead of the calming low hum that I remember from Spencer Speedway, we get Wally's shrill, repetitive bark. It's not nearly as peaceful as I remember from my days in Ontario.
I'm sure Wally has good intentions (protecting Kim and all that) but the only thing I see from all his activity is the dirt path that he's worn around my prized yard. Every time I see his path, I just shake my head and mutter under my breath. I pray that, come Spring, he'll move on to some other activity and the grass will come back. We'll see.
This is where the magic happens.
