Quiet, not Silence

Posted on December 3, 2012 by composerinthegarden

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops at all ~ Emily Dickinson

The silence this morning was deafening. The dark days are upon us in the northern hemisphere – each bright day shrinking, each dark night expanding, until the solstice shifts the tide in a few weeks. A full moon and its subsequent reduced appearances have awakened me each morning long before daylight. I admit to a modest glass of chardonnay sipped yesterday morning at 5:30 A.M. – the moon was so bright that I couldn’t sleep, it seemed more like night than morning, and so I paid homage to its lingering light. Balanced on the edge of night and morning on an unseasonably warm night, the moon and stars ruled the pre-dawn sky.

This morning, however, the moon had already set and I stood in the dark before dawn, with no dawn “chorus.” A moist and silent cloud of dampness filled the air – no birds, no insects, no creature noises filled the void, only a distant hum of traffic. Who is up and about at 5:30 A.M.? And so a damp cloak of emptiness became a shroud of sorts. I can do without sunlight but can I live in a silent world? Isn’t that the real nightmare of the imagined apocalypse? Not the visual destruction but the absence of sound?

Now, at noon, a dozen birds have added their voices to the world. Bluejays, cardinals, sparrows, woodpeckers, and hawks all spin their songs around me as Angel and I venture into the woods. It is a comfort, to know that stillness and silence may dwell within but the murmur of the natural world goes on, each voice in its perfect place in nature’s orchestra. I sigh and something inside, a tight kernel of fear and tension, relaxes and dissolves. I take a deep breath and enjoy the quiet murmur of nature’s world around me, every sound, every voice, every song present and accounted for. All is well, and if it is quiet, that is the way of things in nature in this season.

Why most birds don’t sing in winter

And birds singing in winter.

The Subtle Season

Posted on November 10, 2012 by composerinthegarden

Subtle and dark, lovely and stark, in gentle tones of gray and brown and white, for a night and a day, then all turns gray . . . from the song “Winter” by Lynn Emberg Purse

In the study of the physics of sound, I have always found it interesting that humans don’t perceive many different subtleties of volume but an almost infinitesimal perception of the subtleties in pitch (frequency) and tone color (timbre.)

And so it is in the garden. It is that “in between” season, after the loud fireworks of autumn and before the stark black and white of winter. The garden is quiet these days, with mostly the wind and the occasional bird call for a soundtrack as I wander through. But with the closest attention, there is subtle beauty that will linger until the snows come.

Misty Woodlands

Dewy Grass

Dewy oak leaf

Inflorescence

Leaf and Hydrangea

Mossy rock with leaf

Seedhead

Cluster of seedheads

Hydrangea aborescens

Fallen branch with leaves

Music From the Heart

Posted on November 3, 2012 by composerinthegarden

Christina Aguilera’s voice captured my attention last night. I turned on the Telethon for Hurricane Sandy Relief broadcast from NBC across the nation and heard her sing as only Christina can sing, a powerful heart-felt voice singing “Beautiful” accompanied by a piano. No dancing, no costumes, no stage extravaganza, just that voice. I settled in, knowing suddenly that I was in for a rare musical treat.

Musicians, actors, comedians, newscasters – all gathered on an NBC New York soundstage in a simple and direct plea to help their fellow citizens so profoundly affected by the effects of Hurricane Sandy. Jon Bon Jovi toured his childhood neighborhood of Sayreville, New Jersey, speaking with old friends and neighbors, then sang “Who Says You Can’t Go Home” with his guitar in hand, a second guitarist and violinist adding poignancy to the song. And so the night went, from an acoustic trio of Aerosmith performing “Dream On” to Sting soloing on “Message in a Bottle.” A moving video of both destruction and hope was set to the Coldplay song “Fix You” – a combination that moved me to tears. Many other musicians, actors, and entertainment luminaries from Jon Stewart to Billy Joel added their voices to an hour that was commercial free, just a plea for helping others.

The stars of the entertainment world often, to their credit, come together to raise money for important causes. Why was I so profoundly moved by this particular broadcast? Yes, everyone on the stage had a personal connection to this tragedy, an intensity often missing from other efforts. But this is what I think that struck me and moved me. The staging was minimal, no histrionics or big gestures, and a very small audience. Just talented people standing or sitting simply, making music from their hearts and souls, the way they perhaps always intended to do before getting caught up in the world of big music business. These are the people I know as musicians, truly in love with what they do, and reaching deep inside themselves, not for effect, but for authenticity. I don’t know when I’ve witnessed a concert quite like this. This morning, I still get a bit weepy as I think of the power of music offered to help those in need.

If you missed the concert, NBC has made it available in its entirety here. Please consider giving money to the Red Cross for this effort – it is easy to text a $10 donation from your cell phone or make a donation online at iTunes or directly to the Red Cross. Here’s a full summary of the concert from Yahoo News.

Please don’t forget the victims with no voice, the pets and animals deeply affected by this tragedy. The sight of National Guard loading the family pet into a truck was heartwarming but more animals and their families need our help. The Humane Society of the United States (HSUS) is actively trying to rescue pets left behind or lost and reunite them with their families. You can help with their Disaster Relief efforts here.

So today, I count my blessings once again and feel enormous pride and tenderness for all who stood simply yet powerfully on a small studio stage last night and sang to help others.

Shadow and Light

Posted on October 26, 2012 by composerinthegarden

Chiaroscuro – Italian for the play of shadow and light, most often referring to tonal relationships in visual art (Wikipedia)

Walking through a garden or a forest is a much different experience than looking at it from afar. When seen from a vantage point, no matter how beautiful a view, only your eyes see the beauty before you and you are separated from it – it and you. But walking in it and through it, that is a different experience altogether. You and it become a “we” – fused together by a play of shadow and light, transient shifts of color and tone that enfold you as a part of nature’s spectral ballet.

Chiaroscuro is a term that painters used to describe the use of shadow and light to create the illusion of three dimensionality on a two dimensional plane. Photographers embraced it as a reminder that they were photographing light, not things. As I walked through the garden this week, each step became an experience of shadow and light. Every plant and flower took on a golden glow, filtered through the autumn leaves above. Standing below a fiery maple tree became a transcendent experience of standing in liquid gold; the deep umber and burgundy hues of light traveling through oak leaves captivated me for long moments. The beauty of autumn is transitory, all the more treasured for that short period of time when we look upward at a canopy of color that is unmatched in any other season.

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Here is French singer Juliette Greco singing Les Fuielles Morte (Autumn Leaves) in French in a live concert in Berlin (1967) in a simple arrangement of voice and guitar. Sartre said of her that she had “. . . millions of poems in her voice.” (Wikipedia)

Where there is much light, the shadow is deep. ~ Geothe

For a translation of the original French lyrics (by Jacques Prevert) to Les Feuilles mortes/Autumn Leaves (not the Johnny Mercer English lyrics) – see this translation by Coby Lubliner.

Second Wind

Posted on October 6, 2012 by composerinthegarden

Second wind – restored energy or strength; renewed ability to continue in an effort ~ The Free Online Dictionary

The rains came last night, the wind blew them in. When I went out at midnight with Angel, the air was still warm, pale clouds were threaded across the sky, and the insect chorus was heartily singing. I fell asleep by an open window, lulled by the unexpected sound of summer in October. But later I woke to the sound of the wind blowing the leaves and bowing the trees for hours, finally bringing a soft steady rain punctuated by acorns plunging from the trees onto the roof. It was a night to wake up often and listen, then fall asleep again with the wild sounds of the earth all around.

The garden lingers into fall, having gotten its second wind after the heat of summer. MIld days, alternating between warm slanted sunshine and entire days of rain and mist, have fostered a last round of bloom. Even as copper oak and golden ash leaves drift into the garden beds, the bright faces of flowers blossom everywhere. The purple asters and golden mums of the season have appeared right on cue, but roses, salvias and coreopsis are making a surprise grand finale appearance, along with the annual nicotiana and ageratum. The deep warm foliage of coleus and ornamental sweet potatoes have refreshed themselves after the scorching heat of August; their vibrant leaves trail and climb through the garden in a final burst of glory. Here and there a summer clematis flower pops up, an unexpected treat. The tall grasses are at their height of flowering, wands swaying in the slightest breeze, moving in tandem with the clouds overhead.

Bio-acoustician Bernie Krause coined the term geophony to describe the sounds of the rain, wind, thunder, surf – the music of the geosphere, as different from biophony, the sounds of the biosphere. Although the raucous arguments of crows and the chirping calls of chipmonks will continue year round, I can hear the shift from the biophony chorus to the predominance of the geophony orchestra. As the northern hemisphere swings into late autumn, the music of wind and weather is gradually taking the place of the creature choir that is the hallmark of spring and summer.

Here are some photos of the fall garden in its second wind. (click on any photo to enlarge it; that will take you into the gallery viewer – if you are on a mobile device, scroll up to see it)