The guys from the city are ripping up our street. What a mess. They start about 7 AM each morning, including Saturdays, when the noise from the big machines is NOT welcome.

The dust is nasty. It covers everything. It's that fine dust that is kicked up by the slightest breeze. Our patio, which overlooks our small city, and where we usually like to sit on a warm spring evening, is no longer safe. Even when the breeze isn't drafting up the hill, one can't sit on the patio without first cleaning the chairs and wiping the table. Placing a glass of pop or lemonade on the table creates that grinding sound that is almost electric, and instantly sets my teeth on edge.

When the crew is actually working our house vibrates. Sometimes the vibrations are minor, almost below the threshold of human sensitivity. Sometimes they feel like a small earthquake. At other times the vibrations feel like someone just pulled into our driveway.. but their brakes failed and they hit the house. At those moments all the pictures on the wall jump and the glass in the windows resonates.

It's hard to know what the finished project will look like. All we have now is a dirt road, equipment parked everywhere, empty pop cans and the odd crumpled lunch bag of the workers strewn about the neighborhood. Ripped up hedges with gaping holes line our street.

The purpose of all this? Installation of the sewer line. All the houses on our street will go "online" in a new way over the next few weeks.

Got me thinking about change; it's messy. First, you have to tear down the old structure. It's disorienting. When the dirt is flying you can't tell which way is up. People are gasping for air.

It's dangerous. There was a deep trench running along the roadway for a few days. I wondered what would happen if my wheels just tipped the edge of the trench. Would the whole car slide in? Was there a bottom? When would they find me?

It's chaotic. Equipment is strewn everywhere. Piles of dirt and rock appear randomly placed. At least, that's how it looks from ground zero. Maybe it would look different from treetop level.

Though the contractors have a plan, not everything is predictable. And the process does not APPEAR planned. There is linearity, but while they start at the bottom of the hill and work their way up, some stages require them to go back to the beginning.. like the placement of the new gravel, and eventually the new pavement. So maybe it's more like a circle, or a series of connecting circles spiraling up the hill.

The crews learn to respect mystery. They never know what they are going to find when they dig into the earth. In some places they found soft soil, in other places stone. At one point they hit something primordial. Every time the bucket would disappear the bones of our house rattled and groaned.

What happens below the earth? I really don't know. Does the worm population get disturbed? Do the microbes have any idea what's happening? Do they have borders they have to replant? Chaos and the unknown engender fear. Everyone reacts to fear in their own way. Some get angry; some lock themselves in. Some don't sleep well. Some hang around and ask questions. Some want answers. Some want the neighborhood back the way it was.

The reactions of people on our street have varied. Though most understand, some, especially those who have worked hard on maintaining the lovely green borders of their yards with cedar and juniper hedges, haven't been as welcoming. They watch as their beloved hedge literally "bites the dust," limb torn from limb, the roots of the living plant torn harshly from the earth. Where once was life, now there is bare earth and pocked moonscape. It isn't always easy to hang on to a vision of new life.

It's a shakeup. It's a cultural sea shift. The orienting points aren't the same. One wonders if the supervisor is using the right map. Who made the map anyway?

One wonders who the supervisor is? These guys all dress the same, sound the same, wear the same hard hats, the same bright orange vests with the yellow X.

Eventually we'll have a brand new sewer functioning on our hill. The hedges will grow back. The grass will be replaced, the road repaved. For a while the road will be smoother than it was before. We might even spot some new plants and trees along the way. The ditch along the road will be lined with chunky broken rock, something entirely new in this area.

The neighborhood may never be the same, however. We've met a few more of our neighbors. It's interesting how chaos can birth community.

In a few more weeks, all the messy stuff will be underground, and moving steadily downhill.