The ocean picks up momentum in the fall. In the photo above, one can almost hear waves crashing on the shore. We did not get to the ocean yesterday. Instead, I listened to sounds right here in my office ....A flock of grackles suddenly descends from the sky. They chatter and call to each other, as if on break and desperate to exchange the latest gossip. The lawn seems alive with them. They nudge each other and strut about. Then, as if on command, with a great flapping of wings, they rise up and are gone.
Sven, over at the cottage did not see the grackles. He has just filled the birdfeeder. How do I know? He’s banging on a metal scoop to call the chickadees. It’s not subtle – a bongedy-bong-bong that he taps out in rhythm several times, surely enough noise to be heard if any local birds are in the vicinity.
A seagull sails by, way above, riding the air currents. Flying looks like such fun!
Thunder rumbles in the distance. The wind picks up and rustles the yellow leaves on one of our two persimmon trees. Sheets, drying on the clothesline, begin to flap in the breeze.
A car rumbles by on our dirt road, no doubt driven by a non-resident, who was here for the weekend, and is now taking the short cut to Route 6.
The phone rings. I explain we are booked next Friday and Saturday, yes, both rooms. Due to the cold weather, Liberty Coin Suite has reverted to its rightful owners. Our last Liberty Coin guests of the season left in the morning.
The back door shuts with a bang.
Sven does not hear too well anymore without his hearing aids and my best china clinks as he fills the dishwasher. He presses On and, with a whoosh, water enters the machine. I hear him move into the living room and sit down.
“Nice to be able to read the newspapers out here without feeling you are intruding on the guests,” my husband shouts, now stretched out on the couch. The pages of the New York Times Week in Review rustle as he turns to the op-ed.
In the office, I hear a pitter-patter of feet above my head. Not grandchildren. They are in Los Angeles. The sound is made by a weasel that has taken up residence between floors. Pretty soon he will be the only guest that remains …
