Bird Calls and Stillness
The bird’s song twinkles; a jaunty melody in the cold air. The snow has melted, leaving a dullness behind, a long stretch of dullness if we don’t get another cold snap. (Which we will, because it’s Finland, and false spring is a thing).
The playground was in its typical noisy state. Pre-school kids play outside for several hours a day here, in all weather. Snowsuits and boots and mittens and beanies and wool socks. So very practical. Although getting the little ones dressed and ready is a full workout!
I quietly shush the children around me. “Lyssna! En fågel!” “Listen! A bird!” To my surprise, they lower their volume, one little tot tilting her head to the side to catch the birdsong.
Their eyes - wonder! Surprise! Joy! Mouths shaped like an ‘o’ as they take in something nature gladly provides if we just stop and listen.
“Can you see it?” We search the trees behind the playground - the forest, they call it. Not quite a forest. A copse perhaps? I see something flutter in the branches, small and well camouflaged.
“There!” I point. Little faces follow my hand. Perhaps a touch of grey? A little white? Yellow, maybe? Hard to say. It continues its happy tune, our ears soaking up its song as our eyes continue searching.
All birds are foreign to my Australian eyes and ears - I don’t know their songs. I’m used to the laugh of a kookaburra or the warble of a magpie.
Is it normal for this time of year, the birdsong? Does it mean spring is on its way? If I ask the others who might know I’m usually met with “I don’t know.”
Winter here is silent. I rarely hear a bird, making this one’s soft and joyous song a special treat. So many birds disappear south - I’ve certainly considered it myself at times! A holiday in Spain or southern Italy is the norm here for those who can afford it - a relatively new phenomenon in a country with a long history of hardship. Not too long ago, people here hunkered down for the winter, perhaps hoping for a thick layer of snow to bring light to the world. Salted fish and potatoes were staples. Porridge for lunch. Warm. Cheap. Times have changed.
It’s uplifting, this little musical break in the long, quiet winter.
Hopeful.
The little ones sense it too, rugged up so only their little faces peek out, arms hardly bending in the suits keeping them toasty warm.
They search for mere seconds, looking to the branches of the trees just outside their little play area. The song ends and movement distracts them.
“Push me higher and faster!” one gleefully requests, heady with the thrill of swinging high into the air. “Up to the moon!”
I push. The stillness, gone. For now.
Stay Well,
Lisa x
I’m Writing
So sweet, the salubrious sound of silence. Like silver dew drops glistening in the morning’s golden glow. A shiver of silent sounds.
A humming of blood in veins, vitally pumping vitality with every heartbeat.
The cottony caress of clouds softly soaring overhead, intent on a gathering far away, to rumble and tumble over distant mountain tops.A quiet quivering of flax-golden leaves as strong silver trunks stand united in serene silence, awaiting changing seasons to strip bare the glorious coat when winter’s icy chill grips the land.
Melodic lapping of water against sun-warmed sand. Softly-quiet, it repeats its precious melody, kissing the sand with a watery embrace.
Soft snow muffles the harsh outside world, a wild and wintery blanket of secret stillness.
Nature provides a wonderful world of special silent sounds; a balm for the busy, a calming tea for savaged nerves.
Silence is silver and gold.
I’m Reading
Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott is a fabulous book if you love writing. She has an encouraging creativity that’s so refreshing. I dip back into, now and then, especially as I contemplate the ten thousand words I’ve written of my young people’s novel about a community of jackdaws. I’ll continue, bird by bird.
I’m Listening
It’s been a while since I listened to Joss Stone but I’ve dipped back into her work again ~ she’s so soothing!
Lovely! I’ve really noticed the bird song start here in the last week or two. Even though mating is a couple months away and some birds aren’t to their summer grounds, perhaps they are dreaming of spring - or just want to sing.
Lovely writing! 💗