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12/15/2004: "Sound Check"

It was the first morning it was really cold all winter, cold like it means it. The sky doesn't start to brighten until I've been up quite a while, and it feels like a vigil, waiting for the light to appear and any little trace of warmth to follow. I stayed in the house quite a while before I went out for the paper. I saw that the pond was covered with ice; it had never been frozen before when I was staying here. I threw a piece of gravel over to see if it was just a crust: no, it bounced across, making a tremulous, bell-like sound as it went across. There isn't much to hear at that time of day, in winter. I thought then that it would be nice to pay attention to the sounds I hear during the day and report them here, and I wish I had. But I grew occupied, distracted by tasks and conversation and thoughts and all the random debris the day throws at you, and I forgot. Now, for the record, I hear my fingers on these keys, the squeaks and farts of my leather jacket as I move my arms, the hum of the monitor, and distant engine rumbles. I liked the pebble on the ice better.