Cottage country isn’t all peace and quiet and that’s fine. The morning stillness is punctuated with the buzz of a chainsaw in the distance.
Mirror flat water reflects the far shore and sky. A car rumbles along the gravel road that skirts the western shore. Cars and chainsaws, the sounds of man. Sharp contrast to the chirping of small birds.
A woodpecker beats a tattoo in a tree and is joined by another who is searching for breakfast in a harder wood. The two resonances joining as nature’s drum kit.
Rat-a-tat and again at a lower frequency rat-a-tat-a-tat. Chirp, whistle and squawk building a musical platform to support the call of the loon. Ribbit! A frog can’t resist the urge to participate. Clunk! Clunk! Clunk! Chainsaw put aside an axe joins in to add to the chorus as some other members take a rest. Then all rest briefly.
Now woodpecker resumes and establishes a groove. It’s punctuated by wings beating against air. Squawk! Chirp! Gurgle – small waves find small spaces between rocks and sing. Every moment a new symphony. No. Every moment a new movement in an ongoing symphony. The opening bars played many millennia ago. The finale not yet composed.
In the distance a cloud sleeps upon the tops of trees. A peaceful optical illusion.
Where all was green a short time ago there are traces of red, orange and yellow. Trees preparing for the change in season start to cast off that which they will not be able to support through the cold months ahead.
A light breeze ripples the water and the scene changes as the reflections turn to abstracts. Mirror accuracy gone. Nudged out of existence by a puff of air. Diamonds now dance where reflection once lived.
Rat-a-tat-tat. The woodpecker has found a treasure trove. All else is quiet. Only for a moment of course. The song never ends. Chipmunks. Crows. was that a single goose honk in the distance?
The mirror returns. Residual ripples abstract the reflection but now the shapes are more easily recognized. Diamonds gone for the moment. Quack, quack, chirp, rat-a-tat-a-tat.
No more chopping. That chore completed. Rumble of car on gravel road and then quiet. Not truly quiet. It never is where nature abounds. A different flavour of peace.
One hundred and eighty degree wind shift creates a new abstract and brings a slight chill. A refreshing chill. The decoy turns to face into the wind and bobs merrily on ripples becoming waves.
Wavelets against aluminum hull add a new percussion to the mix joined by hammer and the ever present woodpecker.
The single cloud on the tree tops has been joined by others. A crowd of clouds looking down on this scene.
A pair of dogs bark and make themselves known.