The morning is still too cool after last night's rain to sit on my damp chairs on the deck, but I am newly impressed with spring and wrapped in my warm winter bathrobe I take the laptop outside and try to become inspired for something to write...and I listen... and then I hear...
...the sound of a large creaky hinge on a barn door, but since I have no barn with a door in my back yard, I know that it is the familiar creak of a heavy tree branch that leans against another. If the wind hits it just right it has a second sound like a sputter that a 6-year-old might make when he feels bravely arrogant.
This sound is followed the rush of wind briefly caught in the new spring leaves. Wind has a much richer sound now that the trees are all dressed in lime green flags.
I hear the sudden sound of a splash and plop in the river. The fish are back!
Then there is the sound of a distant machine backing up...not the tinny beep most commonly heard but more like an old bell clanging a half dozen times.
There is the sound of the osprey giving out his morning call to his mate. This familiar chirp is sharp and piercing and high on the wind sounding almost childlike.
The above sound is followed by the loud and raucous crow who calls boldly to no one in particular and everyone in general.
Next is the flat and disdainful yawp of the mallard that stays on our side of the river, but can never be seen when I head down to the dock.
If I listen ever so carefully I can hear the intermittent clang of a halyard on one of the boats at a distant dock.
Then as the sun begins to warm the view, various tiny birds share their territorial chorale with me. Some short and lilting and others distant and lyrical. They sound like cheerleaders on distant teams calling and re-calling their team spirit.