I woke up terribly early this morning, around 4:30AM-ish. I was out of bed by 5AM and I know why! I ate not one, but two cuts of antelope backstrap for dinner last night (keep in mind, this is American pronghorn we are talking about, an antelope steak is tiny compared to a beef steak). I was thinking about it and I realized that our diet here is pretty vegetarian. I know this probably comes as a surprise since we spend a lot of time hunting. But here’s the thing, we don’t eat meats every single day. We eat a lot of eggs. I think we consume red meat every 1.5 weeks or so and then, of course, upland meats here and there.
Last night I grilled that backstrap and then sliced it up to go on top of a huge pile of greens, artichoke hearts, toasted walnuts, carrots and cucumbers (this is one of our very favorite meals here, Robert swoons for it). But that red meat is so clean and wild and fresh and beautiful and a rare enough portion of my diet that it gives me a huge energy burst which signifies the importance of animal proteins to my very cells! Early mornings like this, in my life, are always a product of eating elk or antelope or deer the night before. Clean meat really works. I believe in it. When this body wants it, this body gets what it wants.
This is all to say, it was early here and I was outside right as night was turning to morning, the dusky quiet moment when all of the life on the river begins to stir in anticipation of the sunrise. I saw a flock of pigeons flitting about at the edge of the cliff, the white winged doves zooming about in pairs as they tend to do, Canada geese overhead and down on the water, a variety of ducks, cackling pheasant roosters above the house and the quail covey chattering down below, incoming herons, the bald eagle, yellow winged blackbirds, robins, meadowlarks (oh my heart) and down on the water, fish were belly flopping all over the place like they were performing for a cheering crowd at Sea World. It was beautiful to be out in the quake and clamor of it all.
I am reminded now of the time I went out with an acquaintance of mine who is a recordist (he makes recordings of nature sounds and is an incredible naturalist, to boot) to a huge marshland near Soda Springs, Idaho. He was hoping to capture the sound of cranes trumpeting in the early morning. We arrived at the marsh around 3AM, plugged in all the high-tech recording devices and sat down with headphones to listen to the world wake up. Lang’s recording equipment was so sensitive it could capture sound up to 8 miles away and you really cannot imagine what I heard that morning. I could hear ducks smacking their beaks, water swishing around the knees of herons…
The memory of it still blows my mind and I wish I could relive that symphony of sound over and over again. It was gorgeous to hear the marsh stirring in the tiny, dark morning hours and the depth and breadth of the murmuring under high quality amplification — it changed my awareness of sound. Forever.
I think Lang looked over at me as the marsh began to stir and he smiled when he saw my face, I am sure my expression was one of sheer rapture and elation. It was an experience I’ll never forget and one of the greatest gifts of sound I have ever been given.
After this experience, I began to wonder about micro-sounds. The tiny sounds that our weak human ears cannot register, like the musical tone of cotyledons pushing up through soil, the leathery sound of chartreuse leaves unfurling or the crunch of dirt molecules beneath the feet of ants. What does that sound like? Don’t you wonder? Does anyone but me wonder about these things?
I like to be able to really sit back in a wild landscape and spend quality time in sensory immersion. Sometimes I go crazy and let myself sense it all, all at once, but it’s also nice to isolate a sense and consciously go deeper with it. In these waking springtime moments, when the world is so fresh and pungent and stretching, I find the swirl of details keen and bright. It’s a wonderful time of year to squander the morning hours on sensory experience. Which is exactly how I spent part of the morning today.
Besides all the regular, wild-haired, nature girl stuff, I vacuumed up a black widow spider this morning. I’ve been letting her live in a wee nook in the kitchen window frame for months now but she has grown very large since we first met and lately I’ve had a sense of her watching me, not to mention I am terrified she’ll lay a nest of eggs. So I ambushed her with the vacuum at approximately 6:01AM and she made a *thunking* noise as she flew down the hose like when you suck up a nickel. It was disturbing.
I’m almost finished meeting a bevy of deadlines here and have been slowly re-entering into studio work after a few days away from the bench. At midnight, a couple of days ago, while waiting for my WIFI to ramp up so I could upload photo submissions, I was doodling in my sketch book and writing a poem when this ring design came out:
It’s a continuation of my Rags & Riches Series and it’s so delicate wearing! The bird and feather are one piece of metal, connected thinly by careful sawing and hammer formed in opposite directions (which was a challenge). I’m working on finishing an essay currently but am hoping to have a few more of these made for you by the end of the week.
X
You’re words were captivating this morning. Painting a beautiful picture, as always! Thank you for taking me along for the ride!
P.S. That ring! I can’t find a strong enough word to describe its awesomeness. You are a true talent!
My pleasure, sweets! And don’t worry about that typo. My friends will testify to the fact that they rarely know what the heck I’m trying to say when I text them. My fingers and eyes simply get SO tired of screens and little keys. X
Curse you autocorrect! Your. Not You’re!
Your nature sound experience would have blown my mind. This past summer I recorded the nature sounds of my cottage and keep it on my desktop to listen while I work into the winter months when the lapping of lake water against the shored rocks as I swing silently in the hammock is a distant memory. I stumbled onto your blog writing only this week and it’s like a novel I can’t put down. I too am a Canadian gal whose spirit is gladdened by the wilds of our great outdoors. You write directly to my heart and spirit with each stroke of your pen. Thank You.
Well, what a beautiful thing to do! You said “cottage” — are you in Ontario?
And thank you so much for being here, and for your kind words. X
There IS a noise of nothingness…tiny bells and twinkles…people from the East have a word for listening to it…”nad”-yoga, a type of human conversing with the great underlying Creator’s soul. Perhaps Christians would call it the Holy Spirit; I don’t know, but it’s certainly beautiful.
HELEN!!!
Thank you for contributing this thought. It’s exquisite. But my heart already knew about it… 🙂
XX
BTW, your ring’s intricate detail and shape is amazing! xo,H.M.
THANK YOU. 🙂
That ring!!! That post!!! Have you ever seen the movie “Microcosmos The Grass Peopl”, this post reminded me of it (life of insects close to the ground the way we never see it, it is extraordinary). I love your blog and have been following it for sooooooooooooooooooooooo many years now, never tired of it, always surprised and always looking for new post/photographs/jewelry, it is a gift. Thank you for it.
and that ring!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
NO. I have NOT!!! I’m going to see if I can find it on the interwebulars! Thank you for mentioning it.
I often lay in our woods and take all the sounds in, it’s truly amazing what you don’t notice unless you get focused, this process of life that we all so often take for granted.
I’m loving your creativity, just might have to try and snatch one of those up, would compliment One of Three Perfect!
I know! This is my main argument AGAINST multitasking. 🙂 Which is something I am very naturally terrible at.
What a gorgeous morning for you!
Here’s what I remember: In mid-April, the Sandhill Cranes migrate, and down around Cokeville the hay meadows are a place they seem to stop (or used to) for a time. Driving through there one cold moonlit night, I stopped the car (not much traffic down that way 20 years ago) and just sat and listened. AMAZING!!!!
Aren’t we the lucky ones, to see and hear such things!
I just saw a flock of low-flying cranes while out shed hunting last week. They’re freaky magical.
I always meant to talk about the time Rob and I were rafting/fishing the Southfork of the Snake here in Idaho and we passed a sandbar that was inhabited by a pair of cranes and their single crane chick. It was…I mean…all baby things are really cute but that crane chick nearly killed me with darlingness. It was lanky and covered all over by the most beautiful rosy-pink-apricot FUZZ. I wanted to take it home. And then before we knew it, our boat slipped past and we kept on drifting down the river. It was one of my favorite things I have ever seen while on the water.
I love sounds like this. I often spend my studio days listening to stuff like this, but your friend Lang Elliot’s stuff is magical. It’s exactly what I have been hoping to find when youtube disappoints. I would have traded many things to have your nature sound experience. It is delightful. On beautiful days, early morning, or dusk, I like to stand by the pond on the golf course near our house and listen to the redwing blackbirds talk about the day. It is one of the most delightful things I’ve ever experienced. You are a lucky girl to live so close to so much wilderness and purity.
I never heard the redwings until we lived in the low desert of Arizona, back when Rob was a fish biologist for the federal government. We had these huge outdoor earthen ponds in the middle of the desert (like, low, hot desert — hitting 125F or 130F in the summertime) and all the wildlife of the desert visited all the time (deer, javelina, snakes, rabbits and since it was basically a wetland area, a HEAVENLY HOST of birds). Anyway, that’s where I first met and grew to love the redwing blackbird. Magical stuff to have a flock of them in the tule grass in the early morning and at nightfall. Beautiful, otherworldly sound.
Lang Elliott! I remember going to one of his presentations at Ashokan, just down state from the Adirondacks, when I was younger. We all pretty much had the same look our faces that you describe you had. Absolutely mesmerizing. And so many birds you’re in the presence of, what timing! Living on the river doesn’t hurt the soul.
Lang is a legend. I am sure his presentation was incredible!!!
Oh, I can’t wait to take the dogs out tomorrow morning and really listen to the same sorts of things they might be hearing.
And. Gasp! Are those paintings underneath your hand?
A wing and a feather. Delicate. Light. Airborne. And a bit flighty. It’s exquisite.
🙂 XX
That must have been an incredible experience – so much of experiencing and noticing the natural world is about sound, or at least it is to me. Right now things seems especially cacophonic around here with all the springtime birds trumpeting their happy songs, sea lions barking, waves crashing (and river freshet), wind howling. Sometimes I feel that so many others miss a lot when exploring the trails and beaches and so on, just because they aren’t listening. Thank you for sharing.
I always see people (I USED to see people in Pocatello…I don’t see anyone anymore when I am out running or walking here at the new place) running and walking with earphones in their ears and all I can think of is how much they are missing!!! But, I guess people go outside for different reasons.
Life on the coast sounds RICH right now. I’m glad you’re able to take it all in.
X