I read Chris Watson's article called "Bookends Mostly about Wally" which contained the following quote:
"When my Gramma read her Bible of an afternoon in her rocking chair, I could hear the holy words enter her mind.
I could hear the sunlight slant into the room and crash yellow against the wall tapestry of a Grecian lady with an amphora on her shoulder.
I could hear dust avalanching down the shaft of light, its great boulders booming like a brace of timpani against an inner wall!
I could hear a web screeching from the body of a spider crocheting a food trap in one high corner."
Wow. That really moved me. Silence. When is the last time you've heard silence and enjoyed it?
At my home, aside from normal conversations and bursts of giggles, it's fairly quiet. I like it that way, and I think my kids do too. I find that I think better, and they do well with their school work. I find that I can enjoy the rhythm of my crocheting better, and it's encouraging when the kids pick up their hooks and snuggle against me to do their own stitches.
I find that I enjoy the sound of the slight friction of the fiber against my wooden hook, and I find that the "popping" sensation of working a stitch through a previous row seems to have a more magical "pop." I wonder if the kids pick up on this too.
Don't get me wrong. There's times I crank up the radio, mostly to mask the fact that I can't sing for beans, but it's not that often. I read somewhere that there are fewer than 7 places on the earth that can go 15 minutes without a single manmade sound being heard. Spring will be coming soon; a time for birds to be singing and crickets to be chirping. I wonder if I strain just a bit if I'll actually be able to hear a spider crocheting a food trap in one high corner. I wonder.