Friday, June 21, 2013

all kinds of silences

“There are all kinds of silences and each of them means a different thing. There is the silence that comes with morning in a forest, and this is different from the silence of a sleeping city. There is silence after a rainstorm, and before a rainstorm, and these are not the same. There is the silence of emptiness, the silence of fear, the silence of doubt. There is a certain silence that can emanate from a lifeless object as from a chair lately used, or from a piano with old dust upon its keys, or from anything that has answered to the need of a man, for pleasure or for work. This kind of silence can speak. Its voice may be melancholy, but it is not always so; for the chair may have been left by a laughing child or the last notes of the piano may have been raucous and gay. Whatever the mood or the circumstance, the essence of its quality may linger in the silence that follows. It is a soundless echo.”

- Beryl Markham

There is the kind of silence in a stand of trees, a suburban forest....

Something beautiful about the way wild roses bloom at the edges of small forests, in ditches at this time of year. The particular scent of the forest, this one particular day, after a few days of rain. (The mosquitoes were out in force....)

The giant pods of poplar fluff have begun to snow down into the forest. Quite a sight, I think. Below is the clearing where there is usually signs of a fire, beer cans, etc. 

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