It started with the peeper frogs. Theirs was the first song of spring I heard this year. Many people complain about the “noise” of the peepers, and I am sorry for them, that they are not able to allow this high, pure, angelic chorus to melt their hearts after a long winter freeze. I have no frogs in my yard right now, and the peepers are a few blocks away in the creek and in the woods, but they have big lungs on them, and the music weaves its way into my bedroom window at night over the mechanical drone of the paper mill below my house.
I have never in my adult life lived in town before, and it is a big adjustment. The seasonal sounds that stirred me all of my mature years are not so evident here. I have to listen for them, to put my attention to them so that I will not miss these holy songs. My body counts on the songs of the seasons, opening to them, morphing itself around them. The call of the geese in the fall beckons me into stillness, automatically. I don’t need to say to myself, “Susan, it’s autumn. Time to start turning within.” Because with the call of the geese in my ears, my body melts into deep quiet repose and stays there until spring…. Read the rest of this entry »