Laying on the lounge listening to the sounds of the garden.
Acknowledging the circumstances privileges and choices that have lead me here.
Someone is visiting a neighbour. Athena hears and explodes, barking in that complicated dog way letting us know of a new presence, warning them while also welcoming them to the joy of giving endless rubs.
The sound of work is always there, the two toned sounds of angle grinders and the constant whine of a big vacuum cleaner as a neighbour sands their floors. Now a hammer drill in the other direction. Everyone butme is busy or am I the busiest of all? Trying to be a part of my environment takes work. Letting go enough takes work...
Sounds of society, community, neighbours.
It takes a while to let go of these sounds, to listen to our garden itself.
Sounds of cycles, birds bugs quails and chickens.
The chickens not happy, calling for food. One though is content, I can her Ophelia trilling as she takes a dust bath. They all have different voices and I have learned them all.
But the silent processes are the most important. Maybe they have sounds- a continual hum of chemical conversions, a slow creak of hyphae growing, a crunching and munching of tiny mouths. I’m sure it all has a sound beyond the limited range of my own senses.
