These are the things I love to hear. Old men discussing current affairs and reminiscing about how it was when they were young. The coo-ing of small babies as they lie in their cribs in the early morning thinking thoughts that are their very own and making sounds but only they can understand. The logic of two six-year-olds as they divide a chocolate bar. A meadowlark’s song on a warm summer afternoon. The sound of a mountain stream as it makes its way over clean rocks to the valley below. The crackling of snow under foot when the temperature drops to 15 below. The wail of a steam engine or the cry of a coyote as dawn breaks over a distant horizon. The purr of a well tuned engine, or the soft lullaby of a young mother. Squirrels in the mountain evergreens. Young girls giggling. The friendly warming perk of a coffee pot. The businesslike thud of cord wood being chopped or the sound that comes when you open a brand new expensive book. The roar of a waterfall or the din of a katydid at dusk in the deep South. The plaintive cry of a loon on a northern lake or the drum of a ruffled grouse in the upland. The half sub, half wheel of Barbra Streisand singing “People”, or the call of a square dance echoing from a barn on a warm summer night. The excuse of a four-year-old who has broken a window or the bawl of a calf that has lost its mother. The world is full of sounds – – wonderful sounds – – if you will but pause a moment and listen.
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