From the comedy writer Tom Navratil at the site Little Old Lady Comedy, an essay on neighborhood thoughts as the blowers start up. It begins:

With no warning, you launch your gas-powered lawn artillery. Before I can seek shelter, a barrage of leaf blower whine hits like a high-speed drill to the cranium. Disoriented, I stagger to the window to glare in mute, helpless fury. A swirling cloud of greenhouse gases and dried worm poop engulfs my home. With clenched fists jammed into my ears, I mutter my vow of retribution.
I grab my laptop and flee to the basement to crouch under the stairs with a set of noise-cancelling headphones, alone with my fury. As your assault continues above ground, I plot an escalating sequence of havoc and devastation:
—posting pointed comments to the neighborhood listserv;
—parking in your favorite spot in front of your house; …

Worth reading to the end! Thanks to Tom Navratil (who lives in a community where gas-powered leafblowers will be illegal, effective five-and-a-half months from now. )