A Plea for Garden Sanity

Dear Alison, I write to you with the hope  of doing something about the inordinate invasion of our neighborhoods—this beautiful Garden City—by the professional landscapers and their machines that are meant to bring beauty. . .

Yesterday, I was visiting with a friend on our front porch — a friend that I have not seen since college days.  As we sat there, the landscapers arrived to pretty up the house across the street.  The noise and the dust that ensued for the next 45 minutes chased us into the house, but that was no protection.  The noise and the dust seeped over our front stairs, onto our front porch, through the storm door, and under the closed front door . . . grit now all over my wooden hall floor and the small oriental rug that is there it.

Is there nothing that can be done?

Respectfully, Marash Girl