American Beautyberry, Callicarpa americana
Yesterday afternoon, I took my iced tea and a cookie out to the garden. When I opened the back door, I was surprised.
Everything was perfectly still.
Now, as you all know, I live in the country. During the week, when the rest of humanity is at work, my world is pretty quiet. There are no city sirens and no street noise. However, it’s the kind of quiet which really isn’t. There is constant activity in the garden with birds chirping and fighting, bees buzzing and butterflies flitting to and fro.
This day was different.
Not a sound could be heard. No leaf or flower moved in the breeze, and the air was heavy with expectation. I felt as though I’d walked into a party unannounced; my underwear was showing, and everyone was waiting for me to notice. I nearly dropped my plate of gluten free, almond biscotti as I checked my state of dress.
Life is Good t-shirt and blue jeans; the usual. As if the bees would notice anyway.
I puzzled over it for a moment or two until I figured it out. What do you think it was?
They were all waiting for Norbert.
Norbert creeped in last night and today, all fog and mist. No winds or bands of rain to speak of. Not much of a storm at all, but he did command attention in the garden yesterday. Even if E.F. Hutton spoke, it couldn’t have been more still.
Before satellites and doppler radar, folks knew their environment better than we do now. They were farmers, after all, and they knew their land as well as I know my own garden space. I can tell when something is odd. I’m sure they could too.
Sometimes watching their environment was all the warning they had when a tornado was coming. It’s something to consider, isn’t it?
Nice reflection, Dee, and oh so true. It is almost eerie when things go totally quiet — we know something is up, we just don’t always know what that is. But the animals certainly do sense it somehow. Did Norbert cool you down some? He did us – about 10 fabulous degrees cooler today, but it won’t last…
Diana´s last blog post..Three’s company around here for a while!
It’s very rarely quiet here on my corner of Katy, either. We’re just a few blocks from the freeway and the sound of traffic is always present. Most of the time I don’t notice it because I’m so used to it. If it’s bugging me, I close my eyes and pretend it’s the Pacific Ocean rushing to the shore.
Cindy´s last blog post..A Rainy Bloom Day
I was wondering what the moon had to do with anything, too.
paula´s last blog post..I Have Been Knitting
You darned right it is something to consider. I could hear the silence with you Dee. I had a little shiver.
The little moon guy threw me off too, Dee – I thought you had some Full Hunter Moon theories on the silence!
Growing up in the suburbs of Chicago we didn’t have enough technology to accurately state where and when a tornado was coming but there was enough technology to broadcast warnings. My mom herded us into the basement over and over if her favorite radio personality told her to do it.
Annie at the Transplantable Rose
I live one block from Broadway, one of the busiest streets in town. That’s why I have fountains going in the background to try and drown some of it out. I envy your country setting. But I do love my space, even though I wish traffic was out of the picture!
Brenda
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I live in an urban setting, even if a hurricane were coming, it would never be quiet or still. With streetlights & shop lights around the corner, it’s never really dark either.
I grew up spending summers on a remote lake in the hills of the Southern Tier of NY. Actually just a couple miles from Cold Climate Gardening’s domicile. That got quiet. That got dark. I miss it.
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Yes, Jim, you’re right. The darkness in the country is black as ink in the bottom of the inkwell. Thanks for reminding me. I love the country. I’ll probably only leave feet first.~~Dee
Yeah, out in the country it’s a noisy kind of quiet.
Until a rooster crows. Then it really is noisy!
Kathy´s last blog post..Goldenrod: This native plant should be kept out of the garden
Yes, Kathy, I forgot to mention the roosters. LOL.~~Dee
I know what you mean about that hush in the garden, when silence itself seems to make noise. We get that sometimes in the winter time after a few inches of snow has fallen. Everything gets eerily quiet.
I do wish I could tell more about the weather, just by observing, the way our ancestors did!
Carol, May Dreams Gardens´s last blog post..Another Quarterly Report from MDG
Yes, snow is a great silencer too. Makes all the world feel extra quiet.~~Dee
Thank goodness for Doppler radar! When a tornado struck our neighborhood when I was a baby, the first my parents knew of it was when they overheard my older sisters talking about all the “kites” they saw flying around outside. I’m glad Norbert did nothing worse than make everything look eerie. You’ve got to wonder how the critters know: do they sense a change in barometric pressure?
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Indeed, I remember before we had so much technology too. Our weatherman used to chalk out the forecast on a blackboard like plays before a football game.~~Dee
Nice post! At first I thought Norbert was the little moon ornament and I thought “he doesn’t seem to awe-inspiring.”
But good point about paying attention.
Ha! Elizabeth, that will be his new name. He is now officially Norbert. I just chose the photo so that I wouldn’t have to use all my bloom day photos the day before.~~Dee