Shhh! Spring's Singing!

Fourche Lake in Ripley County, Missouri, in the midst of Mark Twain National Forest. (Taken 3/27/2024) The column was written from my front porch, but this would be a perfect place to greet a waking spring morning - while the redbud are in bloom and the dogwood are about ready to!

At dawn recently, I delayed turning on the radio and starting coffee, postponing the rustle of usual morning routines that would interfere with nature’s melodies filtering through the slightly open windows.

To escape the roaring fridge and the whining cat fountain, I tiptoed to the door, avoiding the creaky spots in the floor. Scooter had the same mission in mind. He silently appeared in front of me and, this time, I let him sit with me on the porch, just listening, postponing the clamor of the chase.

Thanks to an early introduction to the National Audubon Society, I can identify some of the songsters. A few others I recognize from my son’s knack for such things. And there are always new sounds to contemplate.

Before the hum of highway traffic drowned out nature’s lovely audio, I enjoyed the changing volumes and movements. As the haze over a pond began to lift, more seemed to join in. The woodpecker’s knocking moved to a tree in the yard as another moved to his vacated spot. The songbirds began tree-swapping, too, so I caught glimpses of color on the branches still void of leaves.

How precious are the rich audio memories that surfaced: Mom in the kitchen fixing Dad’s breakfast before he left for work while it was still dark; my brother’s sound effects playing with hot wheels and toy soldiers, oh, and his mimicking of me - such an aggravation, which made him do it more; belly laughs from babies delighting in the silliness around them; lIttle sister struggling with saying ‘spaghetti’ every time; lectures and stories from my grandparents; lIstening to Mom and Dad play with their grandchildren.

So many more come to mind, some around growing up in a city (the Art Museum and Climatron have their own unique sounds, as did the Admiral), sitting on a Current River bank before dawn to record a bullfrog, living in the middle of a 200-acre farm (I’ll admit some of those sounds were scary), bus rides on school field trips, students singing in French.

Each chapter of my life has a long list of sounds that define it. Such fun reminiscing! Thank you, Mother Nature, for the early morning performance. “A bird doesn’t sing because it has an answer, it sings because it has a song.” (Maya Angelou)