Hush

October 3, 2012 By in Poetry 50 Comments

Drew left this morning for another two or three-week stretch. I stood in the silence on this side of the door, looked down at Izzy who was doing the same thing. We decided on an extra-long walk, breakfast, and a cuddle in the big chair which is where I am at the moment, wedged between the cushions with Izzy’s warm little body pressed to my thigh and the wind hissing through the trees outside. The birds are quiet today, hushed by the wind, tossed across the sky like leaves or cleaving grimly to the branches with their heads tucked down, small and scowling. A strong gust sweeps through; some acorns plunk to the ground in a rhythm, like the paws of an animal padding by. Closer, my pen scratches a doodle in the margin. Izzy whimpers in her sleep. I yawn, blow the steam from my coffee, tuck the blankets around my feet and begin to write.

What do you hear?

50 Responses

  1. i hear all of us typing. right now. me. you, lyra, sarah, laura teri. we’re a bunch of mad hatters tonight, typing away. i got a post in my inbox from each of you tonight. i hear our four fingers on each hand, gently patting the asdf jkl; keys, waiting for the next thought worthy to post on the screen.

    (i also heard myself let out a soft sigh of heavy envy when i got to the bottom of your post and saw that flatter than flat belly.)

    • We lucked out with this picture. I almost posted a nude of Adriana Lima–talk about your heavy envy. Is it awful to hope that beautiful shell is inhabited by a nitwit?

  3. Gentle thuds from the roof, it rained last night, the residuals pinging on the Busch cans in the recycle bin on the back deck; annoying, unnatural, too many cans, not enough sun. I moved the bin. It’s too warm outside for October, another storm is coming.
    I hate thunder in October, storms, another year older. The gentle thuds I hear now, the ticking of the clock on the kitchen wall; how appropriate, time, my latest gift. I’ll take it, thank you very much.

    • I love October, it’s maybe my favorite month of the year. Something about the cool air is uplifting to me, and I secretly (atheistically) adore the holidays. October feels like a doorway to all that.

      I’m cracking up over the beer cans. Drew drinks bottled beer, and they only collect glass once a month so by that time he’s accumulated a mountain of bottles. Whatever will the neighbors think?

      • Not to worry. When I put the recycling out there’s always a crash of wine bottles. Sometimes the neighbor, who helped empty those bottles, will yell over the fence, “Keep it down! This corner is getting a reputation!”

  4. Bouncing vinyl train seats, squeaking under pressure and the metal on metal rattle of bolts no longer flush. A chorus of coughs and sneezes, the buzz of the train ventilation system on overdrive uncertain if full air conditioning is what is needed on a fifty degree morning.
    The announcer in his monochromatic prerecorded voicce announcing the stops, as the horn blares aggressively past each road crossing.
    Tinny music seeping out of the ear buds of the man next to me, his head bouncing around on the glass behind him, his neck bent oddly back, and yet he sleeps.

    • The sounds of the city. I have never been on a commuter train before (except in London, once), but I can see and hear it so vividly from your description. Do you ever wear ear buds, or do you enjoy the bustle?

  5. Birds here too, lots of them and I’m glad considering what happened earlier this week. There was a sparrow hawk hanging around our yard, and I’d been hearing that very distinctive call every day for some time. He hung around long enough to get one of “our” birds the other morning…, a dove. I almost cried. I had noticed the feeders strangely empty of purple finches, no cardinals pecking seeds off the ground, no titmouse or sparrows up in the branches overhead. I went outside to see why. There was the pile of feathers, scattered all over the ground, an aves murder scene.

    The birds returned after a two day hiatus, at first cautious and timid, but now there’s the usual feeding frenzy going on and I can hear them – loud and clear. Things are back to normal.

    • You really seem to know your birds, Donna. I was just telling my son that we should get a book about birds from the library next time, and see whether we can identify some of our visitors. There is some sort of large water bird we see a lot at the lake. A crane or heron? He stands very still at the edge of the water, and if you wait long enough you can see his beak flash out to catch a fish. He looks like a jet plane taking off, with big gray wings for liftoff.

      • Only b/c my husband did just what you and your son are thinking …he gave me a bird book. It’s the one called STOKES FIELD GUIDE TO THE BIRDS. The only thing I don’t like about it is, it doesn’t tell a little about their behaviors. Like when I found six “headless” birds over the course of a month last spring I didn’t know what was killing them. They weren’t eaten, just sort of decapitated. I decided to stop filling the feeders for a while until I could understand what was going on. I Googled “headless birds” and read about other birds doing this (Grackles mainly). Anyway, between the sparrow hawk and that, I guess my whole idea of having bird feeders as a nice quiet way to enjoy nature has been completely debunked.

        • The decapitated birds seem like something out of a Hitchcock movie, the first foreboding signs of things to come. Someone’s gotta put that in a book. And I happen to be working on one of those. . . . You don’t mind if I steal that little factoid, do you?

        • I’m hitting some random reply button here, trying to reply to your last post about the Hitchcock moment in my back yard, so not sure what sequence my answers going to come under…BUT…:) No problem w/you using that at all!

  6. Click, click, click of computer keys as my students write on this year’s Voice of Democracy essay for the local VFW: “Is our Constitution still relevant?” It’s oddly lulling.

  7. “What do you hear?”

    the traffic on the four-lane street a couple blocks away, and beyond that, the distant whish of traffic on the interstate… two yards over, a dog barks occasionally… the clicks of the keyboard and mouse… the constant high tone of the tinnitus that lives in my ears… a single-engine plane overhead… a diesel-engined pickup truck driving down the street outside, followed by a passenger car…

    • I hear a train whistle at the moment, a mile away. Almost I can hear the wheels pounding over the tracks, though that is more a vibration than a sound.

      Everyone’s got someplace to be.

        • I love Johnny Cash..complete sidetrack here, but.we’ve got the “Man in Black” as part of a collection of songs about Jesse James and his gang. The songs are told like a story, following the events of what took place from the bank robberies up to Jesse James’ death. Johnny Cash’s songs are some of the best on that CD.

          Any of you fans out here heard this one? It’s kind of obscure…called Six Gun Shooting…

  8. You are such a beautiful writer, Averil. I hang on to your words. That’s something special, let me tell you. I can’t seem to finish a book if my life depended on it. I started ABSENT IN SPRING last night. I jumped out of my seat by the second page. I love what Josie wrote above. I was certainly connected to you, too.

    I’m high in the attic, at my daughter’s desk and listening to the steady hymn of birds and critters and hum of the computer. Sporadic traffic comes and goes but not in any kind of pattern, reminding me that nature is ever changing.

    I love that picture. If that were me I’d have spilled that coffee all over my gorgeous white underwear.

    I hope Drew calls soon. Thank goodness for Izzy.
    xo

    • Oh, you found Averil. Yes, that’s where the pen name came from. I adored the character and the name and hoped she might rub off on me.

      Your attic writing space seems so quiet and removed, a perfect little aerie for you to collect your thoughts. And work on your cards, maybe.

  9. The wind here has been crazy since about 4:00 yesterday afternoon, and thankfully it’s blowing in some cold. It’s been about 90 degrees the last couple of days, but now the giant birch tree in my yard is leaning hard, side to side, and the leaves rattle like fake coins. I wish it was like this everyday.

    This must be tough to get used to, Averil ….. Drew being gone for such big chunks of time. Has he ever had a job where he’s been gone? What an adjustment for both of you.

    • “the leaves rattle like fake coins”

      Exactly! Thank you. The analogy had escaped me but this one is perfect. I’m used to the wind in Vegas which can really get going during the summer, but here it makes me a little nervous. All these huge pines around our house, all these branches that could fall on an unsuspecting head. But maybe the trees don’t crack apart here in rain-land.

      No, Drew has never had a job like this. I think he likes it, though. Or the newness of it, anyway. We’ll have to see where we are a year or two from now, after a long winter apart. It may get old for him or he may grow to love the freedom. I told him he can do whatever he needs to do as long as he always comes home.

  10. The refrigerator hums loudly. I’m in Palo Alto, visiting my new grandson AGAIN. It’s the one-month celebration of his birth this Saturday, a Chinese custom, and he’s half Chinese.

    (I didn’t realize that when you said Drew would be away, it meant for 2-3 weeks at a stretch. Whoa.)

    • That’s a lovely custom, though a little heartbreaking when you consider why it may have arisen. For you, then, baby gurgles and OMG the SMELL OF BABY. Bliss.

      Yeah, Drew is a truck driver now. His options are two weeks on, two days home, or three weeks on, three days home. (Was it something I said?)

      • Jesus, Averil. I somehow missed this. My cousin drives a truck and sometimes stops by our house on his way through. He lets my girls hang out in his little cabin–cab? Not a lot of room for him and his dog, but I guess he’s used to it. It takes a certain type of character to pull that off. Now I understand your new dog and the melancholy (is that the right word? or maybe nostalgia?) of your recent posts.

        • My husband’s employer allows them to bring along a family member if they want to, so he may take our son with him for a couple of weeks next summer. I’m not sure how I feel about that. Some of the characters Drew describes make me nervous.

          You’re right, it takes a certain personality to drive a truck. I always thought of Drew as being pretty social, much more social than I am, but he seems okay with the solitude. We’ll see how it goes.

  11. A coworker drumming her hands on her desk. Distant voices in the kitchen. Another coworker talking in a low deep quiet voice on her phone. This industrial corporate air/heating system. That first coworker is typing now, and someone else is crumpling paper slowly, methodically, almost in rhythm.

    • Ooo, the deep quiet voice sounds like a secret sex call. I think you should attempt to eavesdrop, Laura. Not that I would ever do such a thing. . . .

  12. This morning I am sitting here listening to the TV analysis of last night’s debate. The re-hash is getting old, even for me. I thought Obama did just fine especially when he looked at the camera and asked us to vote for the fool next to him if we really wanted what he was suggesting. I hope Michelle gave him a nice 20th anniversary present.

    The windows are all open to enjoy the brief fall weather and to give the air conditioner a break after the summer workout. I hear it still running at the house next door and wonder do they know what they are missing. We haven’t had any wind lately and it has been lovely outside. I would be walking every day especially since your sister’s new house is only .7 miles away but my new back problem will not allow more that 5 or 10 minutes on my feet.

    With all the windows open I hear the traffic whoosing, or screeching, starting about 5 am and working up to a creszendo (how do you spell that anyway) about 9 am. I am now going to take a shower and listen to running water. Love, Mom

    • Mom, your back problem is what’s really getting old. WHEN will you get some relief? Any news about the MRI? Shoot me an email when you get the results. And promise me you’re not going to attempt Art in the Park. You’ll be in bed for a week. (And can I complain to my mommy that the prisms have set in every SINGLE day this week? I was on my way to get a haircut Tuesday and this scooter behind me had the kind of headlight that flashes on and off, for safety apparently. One look in the rear-view mirror and I was blinded for my whole haircut appointment. I got home and found I had been sheared!)

      I haven’t watched the pundits (Jon Stewart’s is the only opinion that matters to me), but I did think Obama was off his game last night. He should have pounded that arithmetic point home again and again, and said that tax cuts are no way to cut the deficit. I wish he’d break it down and ask how we’d handle the same situation in our own households. You don’t take a lower-paying job and start eating rice and beans and figure that’s enough to make a dent in your credit card bills. The math does not make sense. And why doesn’t someone point out how over-funded our military is? Insane, the amount of money we spend there. But whatever. At this point I think most people are already decided and neither candidate did much to move the needle. (Don’t you hate that condescending look on Romney’s face, his head tilted and that small pitying smile? Smug little fucker.)

      Ah well. Feel better, Mom.

      XOXO

  13. White noise. I kid you not, they have actually purchased a machine to pipe white noise into the office to do what?

    To slowly drive the women insane. I’m sure of it.

  15. I love the way you describe a scene.

    I hear the indistinct voice of someone on the tv in my bedroom as I tap computer keys and click the mouse. My bed is undone and the tv’s on because my throat is raw and I’ll be crawling back to its comfort as soon as I’ve finished checking into the world and thought of a new approach to pain relief. I hope to be hearing sounds in a dream soon.

  17. This is beautiful, Averil. I hear the whir of my husband’s computer, the murmur of his computer game, the occasional sniffles coming from us both. It’s been a long lasting lurgy here to . But Autumn brings its own rewards. Descriptions like yours for example.

  18. I hear a lot of quiet, the sound of the fan in my laptop whirring, the faint noises of a cartoon coming from upstairs–oh! my 7 year old just exclaimed!–now it’s quiet again. More dominant than any of that, though, I am imagining the words a women said to me, seeing the look in her eyes when she said them, wondering where the truth is: the words she spoke or the look in her eyes as she said them.

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 111 other followers