Lately, I have become fascinated with the sound of the wind in the trees. When I was dog-sitting at a dear friend’s home a few weeks ago, at the brink of the White Clay Creek refuge, I found myself sitting and listening to the rush of water from the White Clay Creek and the sound of the wind in the trees. This past week, just before a rainstorm, the wind was rushing wildly, bending the trees and sounding like the ocean. I can see where the ancients and mystics say the trees talk to them. The sound of leaves is magical.
Hal Borland, one of my all-time favorite nature writers, has a post on this topic in his book Sundial of the Seasons. I turned to the September 4th entry, where he writes about the wind in the trees and the voices of various species.
There is so much to listen to in nature. It’s hard to remind oneself to take a few moments to listen to the community of birds, insects, wind, water, trees, and grasses. There is peace and contentment in listening to nature. As John Muir states ever so clearly – “and into the forest I go, to lose my mind and find my soul.”
