Friday Ramble - An Organic Silence

So watchful, serene and attentive in the peaceful waters on the edge of the pond that they seem to be meditating, and I love their expression.

On these days in August's closing pages, the mornings are lovely and cool.  Later, temperatures will be in the thirties and hovering near forty (Celsius) when humidity is factored into the equation.

Rural waters are receding as is usual at this time of year, and in many places one can traverse waterways without getting wet above the ankles.  Rivers and streams will be replenished by September rains, and we are all longing for the cooler days to come.

At our pond in the Lanark Highlands is a shallow waterfall surrounded by smooth old stones, and the sound of the incoming water makes a soothing song. I can sit there for hours and sometimes do just that in late August, often accompanied by scores of tiny jewel eyed frogs basking in the cool stone-scented wetness and the quiet. It's a peaceful place, and one of the scenes I remember in January when snow lies deep on the land and the waters have been silenced - the susurrus of the cascade like a mantra, late summer light and floating leaves dappling the surface, reeds swaying to and fro, the watchful repose and Zen posture of my little friends on their lovely wet rocks.

Summer time is kairos or nonlinear time anyway, but in late August, the hours seem to pass in another way altogether, this year perhaps more thoughtfully since I am indoors for the most past and beset by health issues, respiratory problems among other things.  My voice comes and goes (mostly goes), and being without a voice makes for some interesting moments. I make lunch plans with friends and sometimes just sit at their tables waving my hands in the air.  I run for the telephone and remember only as I am picking up the receiver that I have nothing to say, or rather that I can say nothing. I laugh when it happens, and my laughter is an odd sound, lacking the grace of flowing water or floating leaves but still organic - it falls somewhere between a rasp and a hollow creak like an old tree in the wind.