Deja Vu

Yesterday, I was outside gardening.  My gardening consists of anything happening with all things vegetative  within the confines of the formal (I use that term cautiously) yard - tending the vegetables, mowing the grass, weeding, trimming shrubs, pruning trees, transplanting perennials…get it?   Anything that is done outside the perimeter fence of the yard, where the livestock reside, is considered farming.

Albeit, I was standing under my ‘wisteria gone wild’ trying to trim back the tangle, for the third time this season, when I heard an approaching jet.  We have fighter jets fly over the farm on a regular basis, one or two  per week or so; guessing that the maneuvers are training exercises and not spy missions.  You heard about those maneuvers, right?  Our government is spying on cows.  No lie!

'wisteria gone wild' becomes 'wisteria going to the burn pile'

I always stop what I am doing to watch the approaching jet; follow it over the farm; and  beyond, over the Blue Ridge Mountains.  Some jets are louder than others, some jets fly lower than others, some jets fly in pairs rather than singly.

This particular jet was a loner, and it was flying lower than any I ever recall over the past 20 some odd years. The jet was so low that I thought I saw a bolt holding a light on the wing tip.  And, loud; my ears were ringing.  Within seconds, that jet had to quickly increase its altitude or crash into the mountains; it cleared.

I took a few seconds to regain my composure before returning to the chore at hand. 

my wisteria under control, again, if only for the moment

 

Five hours later, I experienced a repeat of that earlier incident…low flying jet, ear-rattling clamor, precision maneuvering.

What?  Was one fly-over not enough for the day? 

Evidently, not!