Fountains. We have two in our yard and they co-mingle with the crickets at night.
Sprinklers. They go on at 5am. I hear them depending on how deep I'm sleeping.
Piano. The next door neighbors' kids play beautifully and I love listening to it.
The three-year-old screaming. The other next door neighbors have an adorable blond son who is doing age-appropriate vocalization.
Porsche. The neighbor's ride is distinct.
Splashing and laughter. Happy children at the pool.
Paris. She wants her sisters to be quiet longer in the morning so she can sleep.
The fan. A necessity with the treadmill during warm months.
Funky ice cream truck horn. At the pool.
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Mow and blow crews. Weed trimmers, or as the Brits call them, strimmers. Especially the neighbor with an underpowered strimmer who's at it hammer and tongs for days on end.
Chain saws. And drunk teenagers any time after 2 a.m. Ah the sounds of the suburbs.
Cicadas, and the question I get ever summer morning from my daughters, "What are we doing today?". Every June first, it seems that I become Julie McCoy, Cruise Director, reporting for duty.
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