Early this morning I was raising the downstairs blinds and saw a black cat assessing my outdoor flower trough as suitable for faeces. Once I might have banged on the window, causing a low-frequency noise insignificant to cats. Accidentally my hand squeaked across the glass, the cat jerked round in gratifying horror, and sped away. High-frequency noise is bad karma to cats. Foolishly dogs growl at them, they should try whistling.
It's thundering now. Distant thunder is very low-frequency, emblematic of immeasurable power. Intellect tells me thunder is the sound of an admittedly destructive event but which has now happened. But I am not convinced. My guts have me imagine thunder ripping off my roof.
As a car tyre deflates its operative sound is transformed from an efficient whir into a hopeless squelch. Inanition personified. Looks bad too.
A wine glass topples from the drying rack. Having developed little momentum it glances off a metal pan and emits a pleasing melodic ping. Hitting the floor, a metre below, the shattering noise is much harsher. The difference between life and death.
Human infants depend on their looks (which encourage cuddling) and crying which, far from being piteous, consists mainly of relentless orders to obey. As difficult to ignore as a ringing phone.
Hard rain, without wind roar, soothes the mind. But only if you’re indoors.
The most unlovable sound occurs when the audio component of a streamed movie is briefly interfered with. Powerful amplifiers raise this uncongenial band of frequencies to a jagged, life-threatening extreme.
Might a jet engine be musically hermaphroditic? Waiting for take-off it grumbles like a very low basso profundo. As it climbs, and more fuel is burned quickly, it becomes a coloraturo soprano.
Descending from Craig a Mhaide in winter I slipped on the snow and fell onto my Leki walking pole which snapped - no harm to me, but I couldn't be cross. There was something about the sound of that hollow crack that had an illogically pleasing effect on my ears. A silly little incident that has stuck in my often woeful memory.
ReplyDeleteSir Hugh: It's fairly rare to find aural pleasure in the midst of an unpleasant experience. I've tried to recall some such and can only come up with certain transitions which are not quite the same: eg, in addressing a boiled egg in an egg-cup one taps the shell unsuccessfully with a spoon and the unbroken shell resounds with a fairly high-pitched "toc". One taps it harder and the shell breaks with a duller sound garnished with a frizzle as bits of shell part. I would characterise this as a "rewarding" sound.
DeleteI like how you hear the world. You remind me that I am somewhat hearing impaired, which has gotten worse as I've gotten older. Roger has lost his sense of smell, and I don't hear high notes. We agree that I'll warn him of the smell of smoke or gas, and he'll warn me if the tsunami alarm sounds. It takes teamwork to survive these days.
ReplyDeleterobin andrea: And so it is a marriage devised and executed in heaven, or whichever earthly location represents a safe haven in your opinion. In my opinion there's a choice:
ReplyDeleteThe Marais section, Paris.
Fisherman's Wharf 1970.
Ski-slopes of Meribel, the Alps.
Port Underwood, NZ's west coast.
Marina, Cap Breton, SW France.
Trafalgar pub, Greenwich, overlooking the Thames.
Leisurely walk up Eskdale, Lake District.
Cologne's Christmas market.
You are yin to Roger's yang, fish to his chips, Hart to his Rogers. What's more this version of your union could not have been foreseen and was born out of medical adversity in comparatively advanced age.
We too have found another version of our marriage. We too are deaf and I must offer VR my arm when we walk to pick up the newspaper. Like you we are a team, we read books in mutual silence and we share the same tastes in music. It is not the penance it might seem to anyone twenty years younger.
Bon santé.
RR - I like your salutation - it sounds so much better than in English. Reminds me of walking in the French alps and meeting a fellow randonneur coming the other way and after a chat we part and they say "bon continuation."
ReplyDeleteRepetitious noises annoy me most, like a ticking clock or a dripping faucet. Yet the chimes of a clock or a running stream or sound of the ocean is pleasurable.
ReplyDeleteBohemian - You may not be familiar with English football. I was backpacking and camped on a camp site next to a football ground. There was an evening game which went on late into the evening as I was trying to sleep. The intermittent and unpredictable but frequent thump-whack of boot on ball is penetrating. At last the game finished but from what I could hear they all came out and started a practice session afterwards. it seemed endless.
DeleteIt could have been hockey. The clack of the hard ball is higher frequency and more penetrating. You must have gone to bed very early. Or were they playing in the dark?
DeleteI do often go to bed early in those circumstances: partly tired after a long day's walking, and the need to arise early next morning. I seem to remember it went on going into darkness and I'm not sure but I think they had some lighting.
DeleteReading through your comments I find there is some wonderful teamwork going on. It is the same in our house. With over fifty years of marriage we move through life as a unit and it is hard to imagine how I might function on my own.
ReplyDeleteSounds I love; the crack of ice when I walk on a frozen moorland track, the slightest sigh and give when walking on crisp snow, owls calling in the woods at dusk and my husband's laugh - its infectious!
Garden: This year is our sixtieth. It is a phase of marriage I never envisaged; heavy inter-dependence, poignant acceptance of the physical effects of old age, and - especially - foreseeing each other's needs.
ReplyDeleteAs an ex-skier I love the way high-altitude (and thus very cold) snow squeaks when trod on. Also frogs croaking in Singapore's storm drains. And the way my singing voice frees up and becomes more resonant after the warm-up exercises.