And there was no peace. No, I’m not talking about a lack of war, though that is certainly something I have shouted about before, but rather the sort that happens in the phrase that ends, “and quiet.”
Today has been a lovely day here in the northern suburbs of New York. I found myself thinking of how many summers have gone by where I was indoors (or incars) 24/7 only to realize in the Fall that I had missed the whole season. So I decided to go out to our landlords’ rather large backyard and just spend some time listening to the sounds of summer.
Cars and trucks driving by, planes droning overhead, hammers and powertools around the corner where yet another house is being built on land that had been nothing but trees a few weeks ago. Off in the distance, a train’s whistle and a freeway’s roar. From the landlords’ house, a television chattering and an air conditioner whirring. Every now and then, in between the raucous sounds of human technology, I could hear a bird calling or some crickets chirping. In occasional moments of relative silence, I could hear the wind rustling through the trees. That was it.
I found myself wondering just exactly where one can go to completely escape this other kind of air pollution. The middle of the farming country? Nope, too many tractors and pickups roaring. The middle of the Rocky Mountains? Nope. Have you ever seen the map that CNN shows when talking about airplane traffic patterns? During the daylight hours at least, every square mile of the USA seems to have one of thousands of planes flying noisily overhead. The South Pole? Maybe. For now. But it’s hard to get to and from, especially for brief trips.
Perhaps I can find an island somewhere…
(Phae has just reminded me that I can always use the “Summer Night” circuit on our white noise generator!)