Monday. And the house is quiet for the first time in over 48 hours. I don't know how a person doesn't go crazy with all that noise all the time. I can hear a clock ticking in the far room. The static hiss of the light bulbs. The scratch of my pen and sleeve as they pass over the page. A jay screeches in the trees.
Don't get me wrong. I love music. There is nothing like good music to set a mood, to get you moving, to score your day. I can get sucked into the TV as well as anyone. Despite my best intentions I listen* to more TV than I care to admit.
But this ~ this quiet time when you can hear the rain dripping off the gutters. A critter rustling in the leaves. The creaks of the house as it settles again. This is necessary for the peace of my soul.
I can think, without having to process...
I can imagine, without being led...
I can listen, without having to comment...
I can be still.
On another note, does anyone know what this is? I found it on my walk the other day. It's about the size of a large cherry. I'm assuming it's either not ripe or poisonous since the tree was still full of the fruit.
*These days I "listen" to TV more than I watch it, since my eyes are usually focused on what's going on in my hands.
1 comment:
If that thing did not have those menacing spots, it would look quite appetizing. :-)
I agree with you about quiet. I would go very crazy very quickly if I did not have some peace-and-quiet time daily.
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