Sweet Sounds

I was drifting off to sleep about 1 o'clock last night when I was surprised by the sound of two birds singing in the tree outside my bedroom window. It started me thinking about sounds that I love. I've actually been thinking a lot lately about the sounds that I love, keeping kind of a mental list of them. I'm not talking about music, or words, really. Just sounds that I would miss if I never heard them again. So, without further ado, here they are...


1. Birds singing. One of my favorite things about camping is waking up in the morning. I wake up to cold sunshine and bird songs. A couple of weeks ago I pulled a bunch of blankets and pillows outside and slept in my backyard. I realized that your body after thirty doesn't quite handle sleeping on the ground as well as your body at say ten, but it was so worth it to hear the birds at dawn.


2. The wind blowing through the aspen trees. Another lovely thing about camping in Utah--the rush of the wind rustling through aspen leaves. Admittedly, the sound is enhanced during daylight hours by the way the light reflects off the leaves. It sort of sparkles. But sinceI've had my windows open upstairs, I've noticed that the sound alone calms me and helps me to sleep. I'm grateful for the trees in my backyard, even if they do create more shade than my tomatoes want.


3. Fingers sliding up and down the neck of a guitar. One of my earliest memories is my Uncle Lanny playing his guitar at grandma's house. I could hardly wait for my hands to be big enough to play myself. I clearly remember my dad taking me to the pawn shop when I was eight and buying me my first guitar. The guy at the shop said he could tell it was for me by the spark in my eyes. That first time I heard the squeak of the string under my own fingers it sent a tingle up my spine. I haven't played much guitar lately, but the other day I was listening to Foy Vance on my iPod, and in the middle of "Indiscriminate Act of Kindness" I heard it, his fingers sliding up the frets, and I got the tingle up my spine again. I went home and grabbed my guitar (which was severely out of tune) and played for the first time in a good while. I felt like an eight year old again. Eight was a good year.


4 Elvis Presley laughing. There's something boyish and silly and charming and sad about him cracking up in the middle of "Are you Lonesome Tonight?" If you've never heard it, go to http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JoObczRKMQI.


5. Anything out of the mouth of this enchanting little creature. This kid is quite possibly the most talkative, expressive, not-yet-really-verbal person I have ever met. She's got a few words down now, but it's the grunts and sighs and screams that make the most sense from her. And she is so passionate about communicating that I almost dread the day when the words entirely replace the sounds, and she starts thinking too much like the rest of us. Auntie Mar loves you, Me-me.


6. My Dad's heartbeat. When I was little, I would crawl up on my Poppy's chest when he was napping and lay my head just above his heart. I could hear it beat slow and steady, and I'd try to synchronize my breathing with his. Every once in a while, when I catch him at home watching the news and resting, I'll cuddle up next to him and put my head on his chest, and think how blessed I am that it is still beating, slow and steady.


7. Water. Anything from rain drops to the rush of a river in spring to the rhythm of little waves lapping the shore of Lake Huron. You must hear the lake.


I'm starting a mental list of smells now, too. Like rain on cement, popcorn popping, orange blossoms, bread rising, sun-warmed skin, bedsheets dried out on a line, lilacs...

The world is exquisite.