Wednesday, September 24, 2008

The beauty of inflections

I was listening to a CD of bird song as I drove home this evening. My heart and stomach lurched as the sound of a blackbird filled the car. It is only when I hear the melodies after an absence of some time that I realise how much they are a part of the excitement of the renewing year.

Life can be measured by the singing of blackbirds; in February, they start to sing in the darkness of early spring mornings. As plants start to burst into life, the singing swells up to a crescendo in late spring and early summer. As my birthday approaches, the frequency of the sweet and mellow song starts to decline and on that day I know that the days are getting shorter and winter is on its way. A melancholic day.

Poets seem to have a soft spot for the bird, for example Wallace Stevens (from whom the title of this post comes), Tennyson, and Seamus Heaney.

So, today I had a burst of spring time in autumn, a glimpse of lengthening days and the sound of hope. Perhaps you should too.


Zoƫ said...

I love bird song, being adjacent to fields on one side and woodland the other way, we hear lots of birds, and you are so right about the song changing with the seasons, although the colour of sound is much more subtle than the turning trees. I shall listen with more care.

Gail said...

Interesting that you said that...I was looking at a few buds on the trees and thinking much the same thing!

I loved listening to the Blackbird!

clay and limestone

Lucy Corrander said...

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Lucy Corrander

Amy said...

Do you have red winged blackbirds there? We hear them most in the early spring, and again in the fall when they fly through here on their way south. We occasionally get some on our property, but most of them stay near the marshes on the lake.

HappyMouffetard said...

Hi Amy,

No - our blackbirds don't have red wings, though they do sound nice.