My neighbor told me over the weekend that their kitchen remodel will take about 4 months. That's fantastic. So above the noise of the chickens, the dog barking, will be banging and the buzzing and whining of power tools.
I don't begrudge them a new kitchen. Their old one was long overdue for a make-over. However.
I'm either intolerant of noise because I'm getting old or I'm simply a curmudgeon and grumpy anyway. I long for a quieter environment.
On my favored Tiger Mountain trail, the first 200 feet or so, you can hear the steady rumble of traffic. Then you cross a clearing and enter the proper forest and the sounds disappear. I know when my hike is at an end because I hear the traffic again. There are researchers who look for places on earth without manmade noises. There aren't many any more. At least every 5 minutes you can hear a plane or chain saw or train most places on the planet. In Nepal and India the noise is unrelenting; constant blare of car horns and diesel engines. And when I say unrelenting, I mean constant.
Olympia is my imaginary destination. I imagine retiring. I imagine buying a house/cabin on 2 acres with big trees and a wee bit of water (pond, stream, large puddle). There will be a clearing for vegetables with a deer fence around it. I'll swim in Evergreen College's huge pool as an alum. I'll dance with the local 5 rhythms community. I'll sit with the local Buddhists.
And it will be so quiet. I'll go out into my back yard and sit in the hammock and listen to the sparrows, jays and wrens. The dog will have learned by then not to bark at every damn thing. I'll finish my book and on alternate Wednesdays I'll meet with the local poets to read and hang out.
The End
6 comments:
Sounds perfect to me.
KInda what you have, without the hurricanes.
I can relate to this so much - there is nowhere quiet anymore. When I was young, my favorite place to be was anywhere without people or civilization, as in wilderness camping. When your soundtrack to life is birds, water, wind and a crackling fire, life seems to make more sense.
Where I live now, it's visually lovely, but the flight path from Ohare Airport brings the big planes almost overhead, and the traffic on the roads is awful, nonstop, and I can hear every coal train and commuter train rumbling a mile away. I'm jealous that you can hike away from it, if only for a little while. There is nowhere quiet here.
I hear it's pretty quiet in the Canadian Rockies, I'm hoping to get there while my knees still work to visit my friends.
And I completely sympathize with the psycho dog who barks at - what? I'll never know. Mine barks at everything, including shadows and trash blowing in the wind. He is on non-stop high frequency freakout intruder alert. It's wearing me down.
Hang in there, my friend and keep dreaming of that cabin, the hammock and the book.
Your safe haven is attainable.
I know so - including an Ashram nearby and the 'Mouton Noir' where the poets gather to read and to listen and to drink and to dance.
Mel-I'm getting so I have to have it. It's no longer a luxury but a necessity. I know about the knees too...(and the back and the neck).
Ellena-I sure hope so.
It will be there. When its precise description is so clear to you, it will, it is. Apropos of not-quite-nothing, we know when an especially hot day is coming; the wind shifts and we can hear the freeway many miles distant. For some reason - no military installation anywhere in the county that I know of - we seem to be on the flight path for maneuvers. The squadrons of Blackhawks shake the walls. But not too often. And we can hear the birds at all hours. After five years of living by the sea, it took me ages to be able to fall asleep without a fog horn. I very much wish you your quiet. xo
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