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What's that noise??
May. 8th, 2009 02:32 pmHonestly you'd think I'd be so used to noises (including sirens and gunshots) because of where I lived for the last 40 or so years that nothing much would bother me, but after a year here I find I'm attuned to all sorts of noises, and odd ones stand out dramatically. There's a distinct unloading-of-truck noise going on just outside my line of sight, and it's annoying me because it sounds wrong to me. Imagine that; I used to wake up to the sound of beer trucks unloading, and now it sounds all wrong to me. But around here, the rule is silence, or relative silence anyway. It's usually broken up by bird song. And after noon, the cars start to move through the neighborhood more frequently.
But mornings are lovely here, especially on the spring. I went out walking yesterday morning when the air was cool and the sun was warm. I looked at people's flowers, their porches, I got ideas for ours. I smelled lilacs on the breeze and said hello to other people also out strolling. They do that on this block, they stroll. Not just walking-the-dog strolling but let's-just-take-a-walk strolling. They sit on their front porches, too. They tend their plants and sweep their sidewalks, mow their lawns and clean up litter that blows onto it.
I like sitting here in the mornings, at my desk in the northwest corner of my living room. I open the windows and feel the breezes blow in, smell the flowers, hear the birds. I drink my tea and talk to the clutch of baby squirrels who have just this week started coming out of their nest somewhere atop my neighbor's building, and exploring the neighborhood. It seems nearly impossible but they're even cuter at that age than they are as adults.
I like it here. I like that I know the noises, and that there are some which are utterly out of place. I like the light in the morning, soft on the lawns and trees, and I like the scent of newly-mowed grass, a scent that's drifting in from next door as I type. I lived where I did because there was love there. Now that it's gone, I live here because there is peace, and I'm learning to love it.
But mornings are lovely here, especially on the spring. I went out walking yesterday morning when the air was cool and the sun was warm. I looked at people's flowers, their porches, I got ideas for ours. I smelled lilacs on the breeze and said hello to other people also out strolling. They do that on this block, they stroll. Not just walking-the-dog strolling but let's-just-take-a-walk strolling. They sit on their front porches, too. They tend their plants and sweep their sidewalks, mow their lawns and clean up litter that blows onto it.
I like sitting here in the mornings, at my desk in the northwest corner of my living room. I open the windows and feel the breezes blow in, smell the flowers, hear the birds. I drink my tea and talk to the clutch of baby squirrels who have just this week started coming out of their nest somewhere atop my neighbor's building, and exploring the neighborhood. It seems nearly impossible but they're even cuter at that age than they are as adults.
I like it here. I like that I know the noises, and that there are some which are utterly out of place. I like the light in the morning, soft on the lawns and trees, and I like the scent of newly-mowed grass, a scent that's drifting in from next door as I type. I lived where I did because there was love there. Now that it's gone, I live here because there is peace, and I'm learning to love it.
