A day or two ago, I mentioned how loud the crickets were out here, but Sunday morning not one cricket was chirping. We were having our usual breakfast of oatmeal and turkey bacon on the front porch when we realized how exceptionally quiet the morning was. The early morning air was cool, and the wind was almost non-existent with only a slight breeze now and then. Not one car drove down our street in the hour we were enjoying our perfect Sunday morning.
Although we are kind of isolated out here, often we can hear the interstate traffic, but I guess the atmospheric conditions kept the noise to a low level. I just made that up. I have no idea why we hear the traffic more sometimes than others. I had forgotten just how quiet country living can be which was the norm for me as a child. We lived at least a quarter mile off the main road which happened to be named the Moccasin Trail....I kid you not! There was not much traffic on those dusty roads and most of the time there was nothing but the sound of birds chirping, a dog barking in the distance, or perhaps a cow mooing. Oh of course, you might hear one of us five kids fussing or whining, the TV blaring, or when I was a teenager, my ever present transistor radio. For the most part it was quiet.
Don't you miss quiet? Do you ever long to go to a restaurant and not be right up to a table of 25 revelers who seem to think they are in their home? How about that piped in music that you can only hear when you get up to go to the ladies room? Why have music when you can hear it? What purpose is that? And then don't you hate it when someones phone will ring and they talk louder on it than they do to the person at the table with them. Do they not realize how sensitive the phone mic is? Really, people we do not want to hear your conversation. In fact, let's just turn the phone off before you enter the restaurant. Oops, I just realized I have gotten off subject.
OK, I will get off the soapbox...........for today at least.
Memory: This has nothing to do with anything about this post, but writing about the Moccasin Trail brought this memory. On one of the trips to Mom and Dad's house one evening, we came upon a bunch of beer bottles. Not just a piled up bunch of beer bottles, no, a line of beer bottles. Not just a line of beer bottles; two lines of beer bottles. Yes, a line of beer bottles, beer cans, and liquor bottles of every sort lined up 18 inches apart on either side of the road for at least a hundred yards...a football field length. I kid you not. True story. Now how long do you think it took to line up beer bottles for a hundred yard. Times that by two; both sides of the roads, remember. Wonder if they were drunk when they did this.
I love you. Quiet please.
Although we are kind of isolated out here, often we can hear the interstate traffic, but I guess the atmospheric conditions kept the noise to a low level. I just made that up. I have no idea why we hear the traffic more sometimes than others. I had forgotten just how quiet country living can be which was the norm for me as a child. We lived at least a quarter mile off the main road which happened to be named the Moccasin Trail....I kid you not! There was not much traffic on those dusty roads and most of the time there was nothing but the sound of birds chirping, a dog barking in the distance, or perhaps a cow mooing. Oh of course, you might hear one of us five kids fussing or whining, the TV blaring, or when I was a teenager, my ever present transistor radio. For the most part it was quiet.
Don't you miss quiet? Do you ever long to go to a restaurant and not be right up to a table of 25 revelers who seem to think they are in their home? How about that piped in music that you can only hear when you get up to go to the ladies room? Why have music when you can hear it? What purpose is that? And then don't you hate it when someones phone will ring and they talk louder on it than they do to the person at the table with them. Do they not realize how sensitive the phone mic is? Really, people we do not want to hear your conversation. In fact, let's just turn the phone off before you enter the restaurant. Oops, I just realized I have gotten off subject.
OK, I will get off the soapbox...........for today at least.
Memory: This has nothing to do with anything about this post, but writing about the Moccasin Trail brought this memory. On one of the trips to Mom and Dad's house one evening, we came upon a bunch of beer bottles. Not just a piled up bunch of beer bottles, no, a line of beer bottles. Not just a line of beer bottles; two lines of beer bottles. Yes, a line of beer bottles, beer cans, and liquor bottles of every sort lined up 18 inches apart on either side of the road for at least a hundred yards...a football field length. I kid you not. True story. Now how long do you think it took to line up beer bottles for a hundred yard. Times that by two; both sides of the roads, remember. Wonder if they were drunk when they did this.
I love you. Quiet please.
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