Listening to the Quiet
I've always been a person who can stand being in a crowd for only a short time. The occasional concerts, the big trips to Boston, the crush of humanity at Memorial Field for the Fourth of July fireworks, these things, while invigorating to some, tire me out. This is probably why I've loved the early morning so much.
Growing up in Northfield, at the end of a dirt road, we always had a sense of quietness. There was literally no noise, except for the birds, and noise we made. I have taken this into my adult life, and learned to appreciate the way a quiet day gives us a chance to be calm, to think, reflect, and to not be so hasty.
As a got older, and when my kids were small, I had a early morning newspaper route. I savored the transition from night to day. I looked forward to seeing the raccoons and deer, and having the sense of being the only one awake in the town. The air was fresh and cool against my skin as I drove my route, and I took pleasure in making my daily rounds with out traffic, with out others to impede my progress. I would stand in wonderment each morning at the twilight before sunrise greeted the day, and I drank in the beauty and quietness of it all.
When I was in my late 30's, I was privileged to have access to some of the most beautiful land in Deerfield, Nottingham and Raymond. I would go out into the woods, just to sit, and listen to the remote sounds of the cars going by. We had planned a small cabin, to take advantage of the quietness, and to have the ability to just sit and be quiet with one another, with out the constant interruption of phone, TV or computer. We had planned to just be able to sit on the porch, and look at the western sky at sunset, and marvel at the hues of grey, rose, purple and blue.
Our daylight here in Texas really doesn't start until about 7:30AM. In high summer, we don't enjoy the flush of early morning like New Hampshire does, with dawn at 5:30AM or earlier. By the time dawn hits here, many cars are already on the road, most likely the many soldiers who are heading to Fort Hood in Killeen. There is no long twilight preceding the sun's entrance, only a few minutes of twilight, then the bright sun of the new day. And my opportunity to enjoy the night's passing into day is gone. Perhaps I'll get a chance when I come back to New Hampshire.
Being Outside
TR;
Thank you for your lovely comments. I know of your hometown in Mass. and have admired it 's beauty the several times I've been through (although it is a bit off the beaten path!).
Being outside alone, with nature is important. The hectic pace of our lives gives us little time to stop, think and realize the true import of our actions, not only on our selves, but on those around us. Having time to be still, to be calm, allows us to make better decisions, and to really be observers of the life we are in, and not mere players.
It's funny that you bring up the islands off the coast of Maine. They are great places to go and just get away from everything, as most islands don't have power and many of the modern conveniences we have here on the mainland (like cars!).
Like you, one of the things I miss most about NH is also snowshoeing. I always loved to go into the woods and just explore during the winter, to check for deer tracks and to help lay out deer food when the winters got real bad and the snow covered up their source of food (not unlike this year!). It was constantly fascinating to see the changes from deep winter to early spring, to see the trees start to bud out, to see the green moss again after being under feet of snow.
Here in Texas, winter is just an extended Stick Season (for those unfamiliar with this term, it refers to the season after Fall and before Winter), and then one day, you wake up and the trees are budded out, and the day after, you have leaves. The change of seasons here in Texas is a bit more quick, but not without it's detractors: New Hampshire has Mud Season, Texas has Tornado season. My goal is similar to the one I had regarding the Red Sox: To NEVER see a tornado in my lifetime
Have a wonderful Spring, TR!
Susan
The Quiet
I agree Susan, there is nothing like the quiet and wildlife here in New Hampshire.
I told my wife that this weekend and just how lucky we were to live here away from the hustle and bustle of the city and the madness of the traffic. Even With Concord just 20 miles away, it seems for now anyway, that urban sprawl and maddening masses have not infected the state as yet. Population has grown over the years but there are still plenty of wooded places to escape to.
Morning is one of my favorite times. In a couple of weeks I will be able (when I am home) to go back out and walk early morning. I usually take an old railroad track and experience a lot of wildlife. You can hear distant traffic but I never focus on that.
I get to Texas about five times per year. There is tremendous open space there as well but I imagine being around a military base, it is probably quite traffic laden.
Texas also seems very flat as well. When I travel there I generally fly to Little Rock then make the trip to Dallas and fly to my stop in San Antonio. Next trip I will be trying the reverse route.
I live very close to that Nottingham, Raymond and Deerfield area so I can relate to your blog piece. Out of our front window or from our porch we face West and that sunset is truly beautiful. That is one of the things that, as a family, we enjoy doing in the Summer. Anyway, a few more weeks and the leaves will be out here....I bet you miss the seasonal changes too?
Missing the Seasons
Bill,
Thanks for your note.
The season I miss the most would be fall. I miss the magical transformation of the leaves from green to gold and red, and the drives I would take down the Kanc to see the leaves. Every turn, every corner, seemed to bring a breathtaking beauty of colors, sky and leaves. I miss the biting cold of a fall morning, only to have it warm up again and having to shed my layers, like a snake.
Unfortunately, there is no real 'fall' in Texas, only Stick season which happens just after Thanksgiving, and lasts until Spring (or until a snowfall, and then that day is designated Winter).
Being by Fort Hood poses it's problems. It seems like all the land is tied up by the military. Where we live, it's not prairie, nor Hill Country. It's a no-man's land of mesas and escarpments and limestone filled soils, supporting only the most hardy of trees and plants, due to the minimal amount of rain we receive here. In that respect, I miss the lush greenness of New Hampshire, and the trees, seemingly reaching for the sky. I miss smelling the rich earthy smells of the dirt, and all the decomposing things in it, for there is none of that here.
I'm hoping to get back to New Hampshire next summer, as my husband has recently indicated a desire to go back (he really doesn't like New Hampshire, but I'm aiming to fix that!), so I'll get my fill for two short weeks, and live on that for a while.
Susan
Ah, to hear the birds
Susan, it is funny you should write about the quiet. It is probably the thing I miss the most after leaving my house in Hillsboro and moving to Concord. In Hillsboro I could hear the birds sing their morning greetings and the evening good nights. In Concord I live on Loudon Road and I have to strain to hear their chirping. I miss it.
Susan,
I find myself more and more inside my apartment for days at a time, especially during the winter. As a youngster growing up in a beautiful town in Western massachusetts called Williamsburg, I was outside constantly. I was either exploring the woods, building forts, rock-climbing, or watching my golden retriever explore all the different scents in her world.
Even in winter, that didn't change, except to add skiing and snow-shoeing to that list. The muffled sounds after a snowfall made the quiet of the countryside almost deafening at times. Of course when my dog was with me that wasn't quite the case. She'd stand still, cocking her head from side to side and sniff the air, then suddenly jump into the air and dive nose-down into the snow hunting something only she could detect. Pulling her head out partially covered with snow, then going through the same process again.
I've found that as I grow older, and spend more and more time indoors, that getting out into the woods and soaking up the energy of nature is so rejuvenating (and necessary). For me it's a religious experience, and I find myself talking to the birds and squirrels or whatever critters are around, clearing my mind of the day-to-day thoughts and pressures that tend to build up.
Bright sunny days are nice, but sometimes the wilder the weather the more energized I feel. I think part of that comes from the times my family spent back in the 60s on our little one acre rock [island] off the coast of Five Islands, Maine called Little Crow. The summer storms that blew in and whipped up the seas excited me, and to this day I feel that same energy when I'm outside when it's especially windy.
Of course reading your post and writing my comment have reminded me that it's been a long winter, and I haven't been out into the woods once!
Thank you for your beautiful reminder. I'll be going out and 'recharging my batteries' very soon!
Take Care,
TR