Sounds

Last winter, there were times when I'd wake up in the morning to ice in my wash basin. The thin canvas walls unable to keep the cold winter air from creeping in through the night. No insulation! Nothing to keep the outside temperatures from coming in.

But those same thin walls let in the most wonderful sounds.

I awaken to birds singing every morning. And the singing is so clear that I can tell exactly where each bird is. I can hear their wings on the air as they fly from tree to tree around me. I hear them chatter at each other, like squabbling children. And I smile as I pull the blankets around me, trying to stay warm.

And at night, when a storm is moving in, I hear the wind moving from tree top to tree top to tree top until finally it hits my rain fly and moves my entire tent ever so slightly, like waves of wind washing over my home. I can hear it start from so far away. I can tell when it will arrive, and how strong it will be. And after it hits me, I hear it move on its way, away from me as it continues on from tree top to tree top. And that makes me smile, too.

I hear the rain drops, too, of course. But not just that, I can even hear the snow flakes during a strong winter storm. The white noise of precipitation is usually calming, but it can also be damn loud during thunderstorms. Too loud to sleep through sometimes. I've spend a few nights like that, waiting for things to quiet down enough for me to get back to sleep. But usually, the soft rain drops make me sleepy, like they did a few days ago. It was late afternoon, and the sky began to darken as a storm rolled in, so dark that I had to light some candles. I sat in my chair and read while the storm arrived. The sky grew darker still, then the rain began, slowly at first, building to a nice summer soaker. I only read for a few more minutes before deciding it was time for a nap. I woke up almost two hours later.

Cold in the winter. Hot in the summer. Sounds all year long.