Yesterday I went for a walk somewhere I haven't been in a long time. In fact, I'd never been exactly *there* before, only in the vicinity; a trail as of yet unexplored by me.
I took a sandwich and some water; no music. I wanted to hear nothing except sounds I would encounter along the way.
I heard the wind whooshing in the trees; I heard birdcalls, hawk cries, woodpeckers making tattoos on trees high above in the cool recesses of the pine forest; squirrels chittering and rustling in the branches; lizards skittering across the dry rocky path in front of me to disappear in cracks in mossy granite boulders. I heard many insect sounds since I had forgotten to bring bug repellant - gnats, figeaters, bumblebees, bee-flies, loud and faint by turns. For about five minutes at one point, I repeatedly heard the loud, dry vibration of a rattlesnake's tail as I approached him, hidden in some dry bushes, out of the reach of the hot sun; approached him and backed away; heard him as I approached the path by him again, wanting to pass to get to the field of blue and white lupines I had been told lay ahead. Heard him announce his irritation yet again as I tapped at the ground exploratively with my walking stick; heard his final admonition as I finally ran headlong past him, the chilling rattle lasting long after I'd gone.
Every so often I heard a "hello" from a fellow visitor, but very seldom. I was mostly on my own.
I also saw and smelled some wonderful things, but I could have done that had I gone with a friend. One of the best reasons to be alone is to hear the symphony of quiet sound that fills silence.
“As long as the world is turning and spinning, we're gonna be dizzy and we're gonna make mistakes.” ~ Mel Brooks
Last edited by lapietra : 03-31-2003 at 06:28 PM.