I spent the day listening to heavy equipment in my front yard. Well, not exactly in my front yard, but outside my front door. And several hundred yards away. But the racket seemed to be coming from my front yard.
I wasn't at all pleased with what I thought they were doing, either. They seemed to be cutting down trees, then chopping them up and hauling them away. I like that grove of trees in my front yard (and a few hundred yards away). It protects me from all the bad things to the south, like, um, Los Angeles. I'd hate to have them cut down the trees and I'd be looking at the LA freeway system through the screen door.
The grinding noise didn't really bother me until the afternoon, when I opened my front door to let the air flow through. As soon as I did that, I could hear the gasp and grunt of every gear. And now the front row of trees is all stumps, like little gravestones marking where life used to be.
I hope it ends here. I hope they're just cutting out a few extra trees, thinning the old growth or whatever. I hope they're not making plans to build something in that area. I don't want to look out my front door and see a structure. That's not why I moved out into the country. I'll be keeping an eye on these guys (not that there's anything I can do about it, except look for a place even further away from civilization).