Have you ever concentrated on the sounds you can hear in your garden? Sometimes I sit in the swing in the lady garden, close my eyes, then identify all the sounds I hear. Without visual cues, sounds become more prominent and interesting.
So here I am, in the lady garden, eyes shut. It is late afternoon, not quite sunset. Earlier there was some rain, and the temperature is refreshing. The damp air brushes against my face. The rushing sound it makes sounds like a far away waterfall.
I hear the music of wind chimes. I have four different wind chimes in this one area, and they all make different melodies, from the perfectly tuned chimes of the blue Corinthian bells to the loud clang of a heavy copper and brass bell behind me. I have been enchanted with wind chimes since childhood, and four is not enough.
Cars. A reminder the highway is just over yonder.
A branch snapping in a tree. A clatter along a limb. I take a peek. It is a couple of squirrels, chasing each other.
Children playing. I think there are two of them. They are hollering at each other, but not in a bad way. They are playing a game of some sort. Tag?
Music from a radio. Down the road a neighbor is playing country music in his workshop.
The prolonged whistle of a train, sounding like horns harmonizing in a symphony, the beat of wheels on the tracks like drums. You can't get in or out of Helena without crossing railroad tracks. The community that became Helena was first established by the L&N railroad. Before we moved here I wondered if I would dislike the trains. Not at all, except for the rare occasion I get stopped by a slow moving train when I'm already running late for work! But I like the sounds of the trains; and I like to watch them go by, when I'm not in a hurry.
The piercing cry of a hawk. We have had a nesting hawk family for several years now. Recently I was startled by a hawk who swooped to the ground not far from me and grabbed an unfortunate chipmunk. The little ground squirrel made one cheep and that was it. The hawk carried his meal to a tree above me, and I was slightly horrified to see him pulling intestines out with his beak. I remembered my oldest son saying, long ago as he fed a grasshopper to a lizard, "It's the food chain, Mom." Lou has identified our particular hawk as a red shoulder hawk.
Crows. The harsh call of a crow is answered by another. Now more crows join in. They are making a racket. Hawks and crows are natural enemies.
Whoo-whoo! Who-hoo-hoo-whoo! The deep, otherworldly call of a barred owl. The owls live in the woods near our vegetable garden. We have a lot of predatory birds. We once were overrun by chipmunks, but not any more.
whoo-whoo! who-hoo-hoo-whoo! My eyes pop open and search the woods. This was a high pitched, juvenile version of the other one. A baby owl! But I can't find him in the trees. I think it is the strangest, cutest sound I have ever heard. I make myself close my eyes again.
Somewhere, a siren. An ambulance or a police car. Someone is having a bad day.
A door slams. Kids going inside for supper?
Bugs in the trees. The sound rises and falls with a regular rhythm. Soon summer will be here, and the sound will be deafening, if one stops to pay attention to it.
Ouch! That was a mosquito bite. I hop out of the swing and take a quick tour of the lady garden. I need to sweep the stone path and pull weeds! I yank a handful of weeds, but I will save the rest of the work for another day. The hostas and ground covers are growing nicely, and although the lady garden is in its infancy, the lushness of the surrounding woods gives it a tranquil feeling.
I inhale the cool air and head for the house.
Happy gardening, and I hope your garden is filled with sounds that please you.