When I awake in the small hours -- an event that happens all too often these days -- I listen in the quiet dark.
I hear:
Angel sleeping softly
A boat out somewhere across Puget Sound, perhaps bound for the Pacific
If the weather calls for it, fog horns blast their locations into the night
If the weather calls for it, rain on the metal roof
If the weather calls for it, wind through the trees and around our home
That is about it.
In the day time, the crows call to each other, laughing the way they do. There are not so many song birds here. I do not know why that is. Sometimes, but not that often, we will hear a car or a truck moving on a nearby road. Today was recycling day, so we could hear bottles clink. If neighbors are out and about, you might hear some voices. Dogs bark as dogs are so fond of doing.
That is about it.
Where else can you count the sounds of a place on your fingers and have fingers left over?
2 comments:
It reminds me of a little town in New Mexico, a house at the edge of a field, and meadowlarks trilling.
I think I see a pattern in some of these posts: each day, there's the same amount of garden work left as there was the day before :-)
> Where else can you count the sounds of a place on your fingers and have fingers left over?
Well, my place, actually! ;>) Plus, we are lucky enough to be on the sandhill crane flight path.
Hmm, that's what Dave said, come to think of it! (Hi, Dave!)
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