They are almost non-existent. There is no rhyme or reason or regular cadence to them. if you’re not extremely observant an quiet you may not hear them at all. They are the sounds of spring – and they’re not the bird calls or peepers or this piece of Copland. They are smaller and less prominent than all of that. It is the sound of snow and ice melting, and the tiny little pings and clicks that go along with it. When things melt, they break and fall apart from their respective perches. Some bits of frozen water remain solid, crashing quietly into something else, and these little bursts of sound on a quiet day are the percussive songs of spring in its purest form. For those who prefer their music more pronounced and deliberate, here is a favorite for this time of the year.
It’s always worth a resist when the end of winter is in sight, and hope returns to right the world again. I’m hesitantly going to embrace such a thought, as we march toward the last couple of days with Mercury in retrograde. Godspeed.
