One of the disappointing sides of autumn and the onset of winter is that it has robbed me of one of my favourite pursuits.
Sitting on the kerb waiting for the school bus to arrive, I would close my eyes, filter out the everpresent background hum of cars and wallow in the chirping of the crickets, croaking frogs, chattering chipmunks and rasping cidadas. For me it is the sound of summer, and recalls holidays in the sun, and more particularly southern France; a meditative, soothing, almost primeval lullaby that I could easily immerse myself in for hours.
In August this chirping, croaking, chattering and rasping was sometimes so loud that were were convinced it couldn't possible be natural and could only be caused by the overhead power lines.
Now all I have is the occasional honking V of Canada geese flying past. The rest is silence - and of course cars.
Sitting on the kerb waiting for the school bus to arrive, I would close my eyes, filter out the everpresent background hum of cars and wallow in the chirping of the crickets, croaking frogs, chattering chipmunks and rasping cidadas. For me it is the sound of summer, and recalls holidays in the sun, and more particularly southern France; a meditative, soothing, almost primeval lullaby that I could easily immerse myself in for hours.
In August this chirping, croaking, chattering and rasping was sometimes so loud that were were convinced it couldn't possible be natural and could only be caused by the overhead power lines.
Now all I have is the occasional honking V of Canada geese flying past. The rest is silence - and of course cars.
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