The Sounds of Silence

Sounds I am hearing right now: the wood chipper behind the house, roaring and then whirring as Simon feeds branches into it; pounding on the walls of the house as siding goes up usually followed by the scrape of a ladder and the the thump-kerchnuk as it find a new resting place; occasionally also the clomp clomp of footsteps on the roof. Interspersed is the constant faint thrum of chipper trucks buzzing by on the road below us.

Oddly – I don’t find these sounds annoying. They simply are. But they do make me appreciate stillness and silence.

Something I realize I love and miss because it is not as present in my life as it once was is the quiet, indolent laziness of hot sun – a sort of mid-afternoon torpor filled with sounds of crickets and the whirr of hummingbird wings – perhaps a far-off buzz of a tractor in a field during haying season or the snort of a horse. But mostly – just silence.

I used to love having the door to the deck open with heat pouring in and pooling on the floorboards where Abby revelled in the warmth. These days I often find myself thinking I “should” be doing something.

Today the sun is shining down through the skylight beside my computer. I can reach up and rest my hand in the warmth on my desk – wishing there was more of it. I joke that I’m a lizard, needing sunshine to warm my skin and blood. Perhaps it’s not so much a joke. Hatched from a dragon’s egg more likely.

I will NOT complain about heat – only a tiny wee bit perhaps if it’s thirty plus degrees when I am grinding uphill for hours on end.

This morning, Beryl and I walked along the Galena Trail – a nice walk in a landscape so very different without its winter coat of white.

Tomorrow – the KMC hike up Davis Creek to Fishhook Lake.

The rest of the day: prepare my sign-in sheet (again – names change) and make dinner. Maybe a bit of a bask in the sun. Soon – more photos of the house. The transformation is well underway.

About goodyniosi

Writer, avid(!!!) hiker - living life to the fullest. Love, life, bliss - getting high on getting high (in the alpine that is)
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