Silence is a jealous lover. You court her and get to know her secrets. You find pleasure in her company and she stays with you. But if you ignore her... say in the throws of a house full of people with dinners every night and lingering coffee breakfasts... she is hard to live with again.
Sitting at my table drawing alone, the ache of every departure having lessened, I finally noticed the silence again. The silence that is never silent. Two fresh fir cones, collected on a walk with our son and grandson, began to pop in the warm studio. And there it was, the silence that is full of what is on the table and in the air.
We went to the mountains for the Perseids. We went to the mountains to get away. We went to the mountains to be still. Sitting in chairs we’d carried into the middle of the park, we watched the sun go down and the surrounding trees turn to shadows. We had nothing better to do than sit still and wait. Eventually the stars began to appear, first one and then another until the sky was littered with points of light. Early in the night for a meteor shower, the stars remained still. It was an owl who broke the stillness, repeatedly swooping closer and closer. Owls are famed for sitting still and watching from a perch, but it was us who sat still this night. In the end, it was poor night for the Perseids, We saw only a few meteors before the moon washed the view with too much light, but there was no disappointment.