Outside, Part 2: Sounds of Spring

If you read last week’s post, you saw how excited I am that spring has finally sprung. I celebrated the sunshine and smells of spring, but this week I wanted to wax eloquent (or maybe just wax regular) upon the theme of springtime’s sounds. Join me, won’t you?

The Great Outdoors

This first one may not seem like a sound at first, but hear me out. One easily-overlooked sound of spring is the sound of being outside in general. When I lived in South Texas, this wasn’t as noticeable to me since I spent as much time as possible outside during the “winter.” Sure, there were weeks when it was downright cold and wet or even icy, but from November through February, the weather was generally ideal—perfect for hiking, jogging, and hanging out. It was a wonderful feeling to know that, in mid-January, all I had to do to run my errands was slip on a pair of flip flops with my shorts and tank top and walk out into the sunshine. I never had a chance to forget what the outdoors sound like.

But now that I’m back in Michigan, it’s much more tempting to go into hibernation when winter hits. I could pretty easily hole up in my small, cozy house, going outside only when I dash to and from my pre-heated car on my way to other small, cozy houses. But when I hibernate like that, I get used to the sounds of smallness: creaking floors, ticking clocks, friendly voices, and the washing machine, the sounds all muted by blankets, carpet, and four close walls.

But when spring rolls around and I finally emerge, bleary-eyed, from my long winter’s nap, I remember the sound of the great outdoors. It sounds like openness, the world’s expanse unbroken by walls and unmuted by carpet. It sounds like vastness, my ears filled with the quiet roar of open sky. It sounds nothing like my small, cozy house, and I love it.

Warble and Chirp

Like a joyful descant above the melody of openness is the sound of birds. When the silence of winter is finally pierced by the first gutsy little bird, you know spring is on its way. By the way, you’ve got to love the chutzpa of springtime songbirds. They’ve left their southern resorts and flown who-knows-how-far to get back to their summer homes up north only to realize when they get here that, once again, they’re too early. It may have thawed yesterday, but it’s snowing today. And yet they don’t pack up and head back to Florida for a few more weeks of swim trunks and shuffleboard; they stick it out, their shivers adding vibrato to their audacious little tunes.

Nothing sounds so hopeful, so cheery as the songbirds in spring. To be perfectly frank, I can’t identify most birds by their songs. Of course there’s the raspy chuckle of the chickadee and the mellow lament of the mourning dove. I’d also recognize the old internet dialup sound of the red-winged blackbird, but I can’t boast many more. (My mom and husband, both aspiring ornithologists, would be very disappointed with me.) But personally, I don’t need to know who’s singing in order to enjoy the song, so bring on the chorus and cacophony. To me, it’s the soundtrack of spring.

Patter and Rumble

Ooh, thunder storms. This springtime sound is usually enjoyed most from the comforts of your small, cozy house because spring is a bit chillier than summer, but either way it’s still wonderful. Just a few weeks ago I got to enjoy the first thunder storm of the season. Actually, it was accompanied by the first tornado of the season, which was less wonderful, but the storm itself delighted me. I heard the rain on my roof turn from tapping to drumming to deluging. Then, from somewhere miles away, I heard the rumble of thunder like heaven’s timpanis. I hadn’t been expecting a thunderstorm, so I thought it may be a semi barreling over some potholes or a neighbor watching an entire shelf of cast iron cookware fall to the floor. But when the rumble happened again, I knew we were enjoying the first storm of spring. I hunkered down in my warm, dry house and savored the storm.

Chatter and Splash

With all the storming and thawing, spring is the perfect time to hear the voices of the water. (Not in a Pocahontas sort of way; I don’t plan on painting with the colors of the wind any time soon.) But spring is the perfect season for enjoying the multitude of sounds that water can make. In spring, the ducks go from waddling glumly across an icy pond to splashing, floating, and diving under its liquid surface, happy to move about in all three dimensions once again. The creeks turn from sluggish little streaks to busy channels, full and flowing. Even something as prosaic as a drainage ditch seems picturesque as the water cascades through the long grasses and splashes around scenic McDonalds cups.

But one of my favorite harbingers of spring is the creaking of the frogs in the freshly-thawed ponds. The chorus is as deafening as cicadas in a southern summer and twice as nice. They must have come up with really interesting things to talk about during their hibernation, because when they all get together in spring, they’re as chatty as a bus full of ‘90’s girls on their way to a Hanson concert. Ok, that analogy was a little much, I admit. All I’m trying to say is that, to me, the giddy, incessant creaking of frogs is as springy as it gets.

That’s a Wrap

Well, I don’t know what it’s like where you’re at, but today is a beautiful, blustery day with plenty of sunshine, and I intend to enjoy it. I hope you get some beautiful weather this week, and when you go outside, don’t forget to listen. Spring is singing to you.