Quiet moments of the night are sometimes deafening, especially when living alone. During the day, our visual, tactile, and olfactory senses rule our kingdom. Sounds are often drummed out by the stroke of the softest fur of our beloved pet, or the smell of a peony bloom. There are so many things bombarding us that very simple sounds lose their importance. At night, everything changes. In my world, with the advance of the hour hand, the night sounds rule my queen-dom.
Each place I have ever loved has sounds all its own. From the crashing waves of the Central Coast of California, to the silence during my very first snow storm in the foothills outside Yosemite. Late night sounds of RV’ers finding their spot for the night; big rigs rumbling and growling to a stop. Soft voices setting up camp. Loud voices still fighting from the trip. Some sounds are so strange, they bring me right up from the deepest sleep.
Night in the vineyard we farmed for 17 years was full of sound. Coyote pups yelping for their mom. Her distant reply resonating from the San Joaquin River. Sirens in the night, screaming their need to get somewhere to help. And fast. Cat’s scrapping and yowling during an act of unrequited love. Cattle and sheep talking when everyone else was asleep. VST, with his bass snore sleeping soundly next to me, in our little patch of heaven on earth.
Virginia City had sounds that were comforting as they came up the hill to the Dunmovin house, through the deck doors, and landing in our ears. St. Mary’s Cathedral bells chimed on the hour. The 12:00 noon siren atop City hall alerted us all that the day was half done. Visitors would often wonder about the purpose of the siren. But, VC has her own ways. The siren was one.
The V & T Railroad with her tracks leading into town sent a forlorn whistle up Mt. Davidson as she rolled in and out of town. The steam engine, the only one VST found worthy of riding, had a voice all its own. Rich and full of the blackest smoke, she reminded us of her comings and goings.
Booms of the fireworks on the 4th of July jolted our hearts. The fiercest winds rolled through the canyons, sounding like a brand new kind of freight train, as they sometimes reached 50 mph before striking the side of the house. Through all the night sounds, there’s always been comfort to be found.
After VST left, the sounds changed in my world. Sounds in the dark became more urgent. Some sounds needed the cloak of night to emerge. Sad, wailing sounds somewhat like a wolf’s wail, calling for her lost mate. The sleeping sounds of one lonely widow, breathing quietly and dreaming of days gone and love lost.
Winterpast has provided me with a new soundtrack in which to find new dreams. The California Zephyr Train whizzes through my town making clackety-clack-zoosh-zoosh-zoosh-ding-ding-ding sounds along the way. In the night, the sounds make the train seem like I could lie in wait and stow away. The rumbling of the freight trains seems to go on for hours, usually causing me to fall asleep far before the sounds stop.
Big rigs rumble along I-80, as I dream about the days that I, too, used the corridor to the East on which to journey. Wyoming is just a short 3 days by big rig. Wide open plains that stretch your mind and heart to the limit. A place so magical, my heart yearns to return there for a proper Goodbye.
Dogs talk during the night. If you really listen, you can almost understand the conversation. Some barks come with question marks, while others are an obvious reply. Once in a blue moon, the clip-clop of a lone mustang comes down my road. With a whinny, they look for their herd, usually just around the corner. The occasional owl is asking “Who” . In the earliest morning hours, before sunrise, the doves rise and clatter over the fireplace vent on the roof while singing, first two soft coo-oo’s, followed by three louder ones.
Roosters crow and garbage trucks rumble.
The nights that keep me awake are the ones in which my own heartbeat is the only sound heard. Just the rthymic thump of a woman alone. A woman aware. A woman awake. A woman at peace.
Night sounds are different for every place I’ve ever lived. A comfort I find in my new days of womanhood.
