Music to my ears
The Cove Journal by JoDee Samuelson
Oh gentle refreshing old-fashioned rain! All night the rain played a steady percussion on the roof, barely audible at first, then a little crescendo—followed by a real drum roll! A calm second verse and a third… a long pause… then back to the beginning.
Some might call it white noise, but it was music to my ears. By morning the clouds had rolled on. That was the end of August and we’ve had no rain since.
It’s been so dry that the crows are eating apples right off the trees. When I went to gather a basketful of juicy red apples from a tree down the road, four crows burst out, almost guiltily. “Eat away,” I told them. “We can share.” That being said, wild apples are scarce, and applesauce will be a treat rather than a regular part of our diet.
With children tucked away in classrooms and visitors back on the mainland, the Cove has returned to a more natural state and is filled with birds resting on their fall migration. Chatty terns bob and flutter in tidal pools, semipalmated plovers wade in shallow water or nap on a sandbar. Along the edge of the incoming tide white-rumped sandpipers line up like customers at a food counter to snatch the minnows and tiny shrimp washed in by the waves.
Although I’ve walked on these sandbars for forty years, I only noticed recently that sandpipers like to stand on one leg. Gulls and blue herons do this too, but sandpipers seem to make a real habit of it. People who study such things suggest that one-legged-ness helps conserve body heat—but how is that necessary in this warm weather? Another theory is that one leg tricks fish into thinking that the leg is simply a stick in the water. Or perhaps long skinny legs get tired and need a rest. All plausible explanations, but I think the answer is that it’s fun to stand on one leg! “Hey watch me! I can stand on one leg!”
While sandpipers and their kin balance on one leg down below, up atop the capes among bayberry bushes and fall asters, summer cottages are readied for winter: lawn furniture tucked away, ladders pulled up, boats turned over, vegetable gardens abandoned. A boarded-up cottage has a bittersweet look of regret and longing as if it misses the sound of children playing, Mom calling the family in for supper, or a guitar being strummed by a campfire… although no campfires this hot dry summer.
Our unnatural weather has meant no grass cutting and that’s been a treat. But everything needs water. We placed a basin of water on the driveway, with a large rock in the middle of the basin, and watched robins play King of the Castle. No one wants to share that rock: It’s mine, mine! The crows watch suspiciously and hop over for a sip when the coast is clear.
Today the forecast was 59% possibility of rain (who comes up with such a number?) and there were dark clouds all right, just not here in the Cove. But hallelujah! as my mother would say. At sundown it actually started to rain.
It’s raining still and indeed it is music to my ears.
Side note: I would like to thank everyone who came to my book launch. An amazing evening that brought a lot of hippies out of the woodwork. Thank you all!
