It's happened. I must be getting old, because there are many times when I just crave silence. In the past I have required the television to be on "for company" or the radio to be playing "just because." As I write, the freeze drying has been running for 20 hours -- it's loud. The television is on and it makes sense that the volume is up higher than usual, because of the noisy dryer. Then maybe add the dishwasher or the washer and dryer. And sometimes talking becomes yelling. Don't even get me started on someone ringing the doorbell and all three dogs shouting about it. Silence. Please.
The silence and tender soundtracks outside feed my soul. I love the sound of the wind blowing the trees and the branches rustling. The sounds of a content chicken are relaxing. I hear their little chirps and know that my girls are all happy. Years ago when there were llamas in my mix of animals, I would wait in the silence at dusk just to hear that contented hum and know that all was well in the camelid world. My antisocial cat, Marie even manages a low and contented purr as I rub her ears.
The goats all fed, spoiled and in their stalls express little grunts and sometimes not so polite pushes. When a mama is with her newborn kid, she talk to them in a language used for only that occasion. They are content.
About this time of year, maple trees are being tapped to provide us with delicious maple syrup. I've often made the effort. The sound of the liquid dripping into the metal pail is quite satisfying.
I take out the rolling pin that my Mom used for the entirety of her married life. As I begin the roll a ball of sticky dough to make a pie crust, I hear the sound that only her rolling pin makes. It's just one of many soft sounds from childhood. I am awash with sadness, memories and joy. Ultimately I am content with the sound.
Sometimes in the silence, we hear the most powerful sounds. We are lulled by them, nourished by them and we are content.
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