On blustery days, I would walk baby Matthew to end of our street, where long, steep steps decends to the next block. There is a full view of the sound, overlooking the Olympic mountain range. In that spot there is a bench for those to sit and contemplate the beauty of where we live. I would sit there with Matt and listen to the tall conifers sing in a stiff wind. The wind stinging my face, it always felt glorious. This was also where David and I would walk down to watch the 4th of July fireworks at the Civic Field, or just stay at the top of the stairs and have a full view of the show. That was 30 years ago, now it gets too crowded to stand at the top of the stairs.
There is a term for this - psithurism - The sound of rustling leaves or wind in the trees.
"a rustling or whispering sound, such as leaves in the wind; susurration: Standing in the glade I heard a quiet psithurism, just straddling the line between music and noise."
This is not from the location, but you get the idea of what the view is.
1 comment:
I think I love where you live - my neighborhood is nice but so 'clinical' the houses may e all different but the plot sizes are all the same size (yawn). Yours seems like there is soo much to look at.
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