I sometimes marvel at how our five senses of sight, smell, hearing, taste, and touch allow us as human beings to so fully experience this adventure called life.
King David of ancient Israel was correct when he declared that we are “fearfully and wonderfully made.”
For some reason unknown to me I have especially been attuned to the sounds surrounding me this spring and summer.
Somewhere in our back yard a beautiful mockingbird builds her nest and raises her young each year. She seems to be ever present as I come and go each day. And she is especially annoyed by our dog, a miniature schnauzer named Chancey. The mother bird’s fussing is relentless. From housetop to gutter to tree and back again she goes, back and forth, back and forth. And as she flits and flies, she chirps a reprimand which is both sharp and shrill.
The dog could care less and is certainly no threat to the mother bird and her family, but the chastisement continues until the nest is empty.
I have come to look forward to her “Chirp, chirp…chirp.”
A few years back I read the vows for a summer wedding in Trousdale County. The ceremony took place in a beautiful, sprawling backyard that sloped gently down to a peaceful, shaded pond. It was a spectacular summer setting.
When the bride, groom, and all the attendants were in place, we found ourselves backed up only a few feet from the water’s edge.
Reading the vows, I repeated these words, “Let nothing deter your love.” The word “deter” seemed to stick in my mind as I continued with the ceremony.
In a moment the time came to offer a prayer of blessing for the soon to be married. As I began to talk to God on their behalf, a big bullfrog at water’s edge jarred down in his deepest bass voice.
I’ve never experienced a situation quite like it in my life. I’m trying to concentrate on the prayer and this bullfrog is wearing it out. As I continued to word the prayer, I kept thinking back to the words of the just repeated vows, “Let nothing deter your prayer, Jack.”
Before the wedding came to its close most of the frogs in that pond had chimed in at one time or another. It made for many smiles, hushed laughter and a few chuckles. I was left thinking, “Only in the summertime.”
I pitched a bundle of tobacco sticks out of the back of my truck the other day. As the bundle, secured by hay baling strings, hit the ground, it made a strikingly familiar sound. It was a sound I have heard a thousand times, a sharp, crackling, rattling sound. It took me back in time.
For a moment I heard the popping sound of ripe tobacco stalks giving way to the blade of a tobacco knife and the hum of a tobacco spike as it vibrated on the end of a tobacco stick.
I have come to love the sound made by a scoop of horse feed when it hits the bottom of the feed bucket. It brings me to life in the early morning. My horses and “bottle” calves love to hear the sound of the garage door going up. That’s when they call to me. I answer with a bucket of feed and a, “Good morning, ladies.”
A thunderstorm blew through the other evening. As I was witnessing a spectacular display of lightning, I waited for the thunder to follow. It was a rolling, crashing kind of thunder. I could see the rain coming in the distance. Then, I heard the rain rushing in my direction. That was followed by the sound of rain drops peppering the windows and roof of the house. It can be a most satisfying experience.
I remembered how the rain used to arrive in the Brim Hollow. The first drops of rain hitting a tin roof make a deliciously, tantalizing sound. Then the rain would come with more force. Sometimes it would build to a deafening, roaring sound.
There was a quiet peace you could feel under the safety of a tin roof in the middle of a rainstorm.
One of my favorite sounds, when our boys were growing up, was to hear the front door opening in the night. It meant someone had arrived home safely. It also meant for sounder sleeping.
There are many familiar sounds that paint pictures in our lives and, in doing so, help define who we are.
May your ears be attuned to the sounds of this spring and summer.
Copyright 2024 by Jack McCall
