Nature is Always Singing
When I was Growing Up Prompt#19 Singing
For me, the thought of singing in public is petrifying. However, there was one time that I sang with abandon.
I was four or five years old. My parents were building a new milking parlor in the barn. My dad, my uncle Edwin and a few others came to help with the project.
I took it upon myself to entertain the men while they worked. I stood above them, looking down into the foundation of what would become the milking parlor, and with great vigor and confidence, I sang the song Little Breeze from the South.
Little breeze from the South, you can sing, though you have no
mouth.
Little songs, young and gay, full of cheer as a summer day.
All the birds and the beasties too, seem to know that the
winter’s through!
And the grass, as you pass, whispers low,
“It is Spring, Sweet Spring.”
(John Thompson’s First Grade Piano Book)
That was the last time I would ever sing to an audience, albeit captive. Even if I had the confidence, I don’t have the pipes to pull it off.
I realize that that little girl’s desire to sing to an audience was fleeting. But I must have chosen that song for a reason. Our connections with both music and nature are innate. The lyrics confirm that my connection with nature has always been a part of my authentic self.
I was in Cape Cod this past weekend. The impetus for this trip was to attend an engagement party on Sunday night. Unfortunately, the party coincided with a mandatory six-hour, two-day class on Saturday and Sunday. As a result, I had very little free time to venture from my room and enjoy the Cape.
Before my class, each morning, my husband and I walked along the National Seashore trails of Eastham. I had never been on these trails before. I was delighted to find a treasure trove of grasses and wildflowers beside the path. The butterflies fluttered around me as I passed, and the smell of the wild roses and saltwater was intoxicating.
It was just what I needed to fill my reservoir before I sat in front of my computer for six hours.
On the inside, I am still that girl who sang about birds, beasties, and grasses whispering low. The only thing that has changed is my listeners.
Instead of singing to a group of men working, I sing to an audience of trees, eagles, dragonflies, and pond lilies on my morning paddle. They don’t seem to mind my less than perfect-pitched voice.
With Love & Energy by the Pond,
Laurel
