Given the chance, I'll happily spend time at Roe Corner, often just sitting, quietly, listening. It's a good spot because there are some logs to sit on from from which I have views into three environments - down the farmer's field, into the estate forestry to the left, and into the relatively recently planted mixed woodland behind me. I've seen wildlife here too - roe deer, red squirrels, a large variety of birds, and insects, particularly butterflies, the place being a favourite of speckled woods.
However, what I most like about sitting at Roe Corner is that, while I may watch the wildlife, it's one of the few places where I can also listen and, if I'm very lucky, actually hear that elusive thing called silence.
I have to be patient, though, for there are many layers of sound at Roe Corner. Closest are the sounds of woodland and wildlife, and behind them the noises from the nearby houses - mowers, building work, children calling. Behind them again lies a cacophony of noises along the A9, one of Scotland's busy trunk roads, while beyond them there are distant sounds, like the railway and the gunnery on the RAF range on the other side of the firth. But, every now and then, and usually very briefly, all are quiet, and I have silence.
It was one of the things I loved about Ardnamurchan that, so often, last thing at night, I could walk out onto the front terrace of our house overlooking the Sound of Mull, and hear.... nothing.
We modern humans don't appreciate silence enough. We don't actively seek out places where we can listen to silence. We don't value the therapy of silence, the peace it can bring, the opportunity for quiet introspection. It's a tragedy because, surely, we cannot hope to understand ourselves and our place in this increasingly frenetic world unless we we have time to ourselves, uninterrupted by noise. A time where there is only us, and silence.
My son and his family arrive tomorrow with some friends from the USA and I was out this afternoon, picking blackberries for a Bramley and blackberry crumble (We thought the Americans would like that). There was not a breath of wind and the air was warm. The striking thing was the birdsong. Close up, the long tailed tits were having a party whilst wood pigeons cooed further away. Blackbirds called in another field and sparrows made a background of chirping. It was an hour well spent in the quietness. Tomorrow, a storm arrives with rain and high winds, but we will be indoors enjoying a hot pudding of winfalls from the orchard and natures bounty.
ReplyDeleteThere's nothing to beat a good crumble, Derryck. We've been enjoying apple and pear crumbles but, when the season for fresh British fruit closes, we happily fall back on such things as dried apricots.
DeleteYour American friends are fortunate to be visiting such a discerning household. They're perhaps less fortunate to be arriving in time for some proper British weather!