Thursday, June 7, 2012

Ruidos - Sounds

Right before daylight there is stillness, darkness, an occasional, far off call of a night bird.  Then the night recedes and daylight peaks through the blackness, which in turn, wakes the songbirds singing their morning chorus.  It is a beautiful, cacophonous, rousing sound...and then the day starts.

My morning bike rides along the lake shore bring me a few "moos" from the local cows, a whinny from the new colts and mares in the open fields, an occasional dog bark as I try to pass unnoticed in front of their homes, distant duck calls, macho rooster crows and sweet, young chick clucks.

Almost everyone I pass or meet says "Buenos Dias".  Even the animals.

The cobblestones clack and click my bicycle tires and stress my shocks.  As I near the plaza, shouts of children running and playing in the school yard meet me.  Women are talking to each other in open doorways as I pass.  Local delivery trucks are making their rounds...all in preparation for the fiesta about to start tonight.

Then I reach the Malecon with it's gorgeous vistas, the egrets almost silently flying above, the herons patiently fishing, the grackles mischievously imitating sounds and strutting for each other.  What a show this is!

I find a shady spot to sit, from which to drink in the view, to leisurely read the morning paper, to have a breakfast bite and some liquid to quench my thirst...and I sit...stop...exist...and listen.

The swallows have found a good crop of swirling insects to feast on, right above my head.  Their sweet calls a welcome break from the people sounds.  I listen to their flight, their swooping and turning quickly, their squeaks of joy as they accomplish their innate tasks, sated.

As I ride home I hear the teasing, rising call of the cicadas...their plea turns into a whirling, whistling sound that pierces space with its intensity.  I greet my neighbors with "Buenas Tardes" as they lounge under the shade of our wondrous ficus trees.

And I return home greeted by the music of my partner, Chopin or Rachmaninoff...or possibly MDNA later in the evening.

Then the day grows dark, as the night sounds start.  The flapping of bat wings over head.  The night birds emerge to serenade our evening.  And the street dogs howl at the quehuetes as they explode somewhere over San Antonio, for the feast day celebrations have begun.

Then sleep over rides everything and the sound of dreams lull us into another realm.

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