The fact that this picture is of a spot only a short distance from my son's house explains what we heard the night we arrived in Charlottesville.Cles and Leslie's house is on a road with other homes, but the woods surrounding the back and sides give it an incredible sense of isolation from the madness of the world.
It was late, when we arrived from Dulles. The contrast of flying into DC and traveling through areas with lots of people made an unforgettable impression.
There was a light rain, and the sound of the drizzle on the broadleaf trees, was interesting. I don't think I've heard anything like it before.
And crickets. Besides missing mountains, it's what I long to find some day, and if I can hear frogs and kill deer and mourning doves, I would feel like I'm in heaven.
I bought a little machine a few years ago, thinking that turning it on at night with the sounds of a mountain stream and crickets would help me sleep soundly. It worked with real crickets, so I thought I would give it a try.
After spending three or four nights sleeping and getting up in the morning without feeling rested, I realized I could sense--even while sleeping--the difference between the real thing and a strange machine making simulations.
I use it occasionally during the day, mainly to entertain grandchildren, but I don't use it at night, not ever.
There are, however, a few moments, when I am angry or tense that it is nice to have.
It calms me, just like the effect that music has always had on me. There is a type of serenity I feel when I find the right place. It's like taking a deep breath on the first day of summer, amid lilacs in blossom and robins in a morning dance. That's that hop they make on a lawn, chirping and listening and scanning the green for a crawling protein source.
But then again, I did always listen to Led Zeppelin just before I played football. It helped me feel rage, and I was ready for the first play of the game.
The only problem with that was my having created a monster rage that I needed to control not pander, but it was a handy tool for football.
I remember when Dr. Mulvey, my good friend and oncologist told me that he had never met anyone with such a passion for music. My Welsh grandmother would have smiled to hear that. She was my elementary music teacher, and she reminded everyone in class that passion for music was part of being Welsh.
Grandma also told us that we were warriors and poets too.
The poet part was not something anyone wanted at that time. I remember wanting to write a poem, when I was in high school. It was that 60's thing, but I didn't know how to start, and most of our teachers struggled helping us write a reasonable essay. Poetry was not on the agenda.
I learned that much later.
I miss those sounds of nature. My music will go with me anywhere, especially thanks to I-Pod. My entire music collection fits on my new 160 GB player, although it may be soon full before I add my soundtracks, jazz and classical music Cd's.
But I will find a place where I can enjoy nature again like I remember it.
I dream of having a small barn, surrounded by a little pasture. And what dream like this would be complete without a John Deere riding mower.
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