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Seasons of sound

Something I have enjoyed is listening to tellings of seasons outside of the common “Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter.”

Cycle marking observations of familiar, and perhaps hyper-local happenings like the different kinds of rain, or how yellow hawkweed follows dandelions, or that blackberries linger the longest.

We might hear someone speak a memory, or place a story in time with reference to a personally noted season. Perhaps it was a boot sucked off a foot by smelly, skunk cabbage filled mud, or how a full moon on Summer Solstice meant a whole night without darkness.

But what I love most is to hear of someone’s complete set. It takes time in a place with careful noticing, and friends who forage, fish, hunt, grow, or travel our waterways are most likely to have them. Repeating cycles of “this” follows “that” is a powerful remedy to lean into when the rest of life feels unpredictable or unstable. It brings us closer to the natural world around us and keeps us engaged in wordless communication with “more than human” realms.

I have written previously on tracking such things as where the Sun sets or how constellations move over the course of a year, but finding closer, more personal seasons can be not only a balm for our soul, but also keep us acutely informed. Finding subtle shifts allows us time to respond and adapt to changes, even if imperceptibly.

I’ve been so taken with the concept of seasons beyond the big four, that over the past few years I have begun including sound alongside watching the plants and animals around our home. Instead of simply lovely in-themoment experiences, they are coming together into a fuller set that keeps me tuned into things even when I am inside. Rooster crows, robin songs, owl hoots and hummingbird buzz all tell me what time of day it is. Sea lion barks and groaning came and went as usual, while rooftop rains have been more pervasive.

Frogs didn’t fill the nighttime soundscape as they did last year, but the young ravens surely are making their presence known again. There has been very little ping-ponging of tennis balls at the nearby court so far, but the high hum of mosquito clouds is more prevalent.

Soon there will be morning mowing, evening crickets, and for the first time in two years, music from a nearby annual festival. If sound is available to you, you might find a full set of cycles and seasons within them.

Juliette Jarvis

Juliette Jarvis offers sacred living programs online, devotional arts, and divination sessions. Find her at 3FoldBalance.com and SelkieSanctuary.com