Night again. Clear. No moon. Peace isn’t easy to come by tonight. Dog barks. The wild cats are tame enough, by night at least, to share space on the deck with me. More barking, this time from down in the valley.

I see new growth appearing on the old Christmas tree, released to the forest before I moved here. It does not precisely thrive in this oak and hickory forest but it does grow. Considering that most Christmas trees never get a second chance, that is something.

A frog, two locusts, a goose questioning softly, perhaps saying "good night." Traffic in the distance, a jet. A creak and a crack that could be an animal step on the dry leaves or...simply something falling from a tree.

Odd how the wild cats seek my company at night. Raggedy ears, he of the ears shredded in a dozen places or more, preens on the step. His coat is flea-bitten and looks like a bad haircut. One of last year’s kittens, still playful, seeks the moths and the locusts but is wary of me.
Calm and still, early on a spring night.

Time: After dark. The sky is perhaps, just perhaps, one shade paler than full night. It is quiet. No birds sing. No breeze rustles the leaves. In the distance, a single frog croaks its tune.

My ears grasp at something. Is it only my imaginings of distant sounds or is there something there? There. The honk of a single goose announcing he is settling down for the night on the pond half a mile away. A moth fritters at the light, casting a shadow. A few lights pierce the dark, no larger than the stars overhead. The only sound is my pen scratching across paper.

Overhead, the dipper empties stars into the black of the cosmos, pouring light into the dark for eon upon eon, since before humans named it thus.

--

Little sounds scratch the surface of the greater silence, the silence no one can hear, the silence no sound can disturb. Perhaps the trees understand this silence, a little. The rocks know it.
From great silence I came and into great silence I will go.

Sound lasts for only a moment. In the silence, sound is an aberration between silences. Silence awaits my return.

Does the knowing of sound change the silence? Is to silence returned different from the unknowing silence of before? Does the memory of sound forever change the silence that follows? I have no answers. There is only silence.

Fresh air and bright sun. A puff of clouds, flits of yellow rumps. A breeze.

Leaves dapple and dance, pale green ovals. A million, perhaps more.

Birds scold, dancing between the trees like leaves given flight.

Vultures dance in the air, above it all.

---

Humans make a lot of noise.
a 2-seater plane
shouts at paintball
A jet in the distance
Always there are planes.
shouts.

Intrusions.

Rock music pulses from over on the ski slopes. An all-day concert is in progress.

I head birdsong only in between the rock music, notes of other songs that only I am hearing.

The leave dance in the breeze.


Jays scold

Fog and the chill of the damp.

Thoughts of the day intrude, too.

---
"orange" start, bay-breasted warbler, red-eyed vireo, a wavelet of warblers,
Clouds and the air freshens

Phoebe, dove, robin, wren, vireo
moist air, cloudy with fog
Bird song, the music of the forest,
a layer of sound atop the silent trees

The trees have seen it all.
They stand silent, as though to say,
let the little ones sing and die.
let the flowers bloom and wither.
Still, we stand.

Chestnut-sided warbler, titmouse, wood thrush.

The woods are newly green and bright with it.
Sky is haxed with moisture.
Colors of day dim, then fade.
Evening.

Warblers in the treetops still feel the sun's kiss. Not me.
Warblers race by me, don't stop.
I don't know who they are.
They fly. I don't.

Sit Spot Journal - Day 16

I haven't been very good at keeping this blog up to day with my sitting, but some days it's a choice between sitting and blogging, and I've chosen sitting.

Saturday's sit was a fun one. It was raining, but not pouring, as was the forecast, and I took the opportunity of something less than a downpour to do my sit just before lunch, instead of waiting until evening when the rain might well be heavier.

So I gather up my rainjacket and rain hat, wipe off my chair and Sit. It is foggy and drizzly, with lots of bird action, both vocal and visual. Spring singing is going on in earnest right now, especially the cardinals and Carolina wrens, who never seem to tire of the sound of their own sweet voices.

So I'm sitting still, just taking in the drizzle and the birds, when suddenly a black-capped chickadee lands right next to my shoulder on the deck railing. This bird is easily within arm's reach and likely not more than 2 feet away. I sit unmoving, not even a blink, and for an instant the little one just sits there, too. Then something told it to move, and it flew off, startled. It landed in the pine tree that's perhaps 5 feet away and proceeded to look at me, as though it can't figure out who/what I am. It doesn't scold. It just sits and stares, as though waiting for me to do something so it can figure me out. I don't move. After a minute or so of this, a second chickadee joins the first and the two fly off together. A close encounter of the chickadee kind.

Sit Spot Journal - Day 15

Sit time: 7:45 p.m.- 8:05 p.m.

It snowed during Sit tonight. Medium-sized flakes dropped from the sky, pushed around by a slight wind. I kept trying to pay attention to the direction of the wind, but it was so variable that I soon stopped that. The temperature is nearly 20 degrees warmer than last night.

Sounds: 1 or 2 Canada gees overhead occasionally. they didn't seem to be migrants, just geese honking in the clouds. A few gunshots from an odd direction--perhaps the clouds affected where I thought the shots originated.

Soon I am as white as a polar bear or a yeti. Tonight's was a beautiful Sit. I feel lucky to experience the snowfall, which isn't silent, just hushed.

Sit Spot Journal - Day 14

The coldest sit yet! Strong northwest winds and temperatures in the teens. I sort of wish tonight had been the Sit I missed.

Sit Spot Journal - Day 13

An unlucky day for sit-spotting. I missed my sit today. I didn't intend to. The day didn't look as though it would be one where I missed my sit, but that's how it ended up. Got home late from work. Took Baby Dog to the vet for her annual shots and our visit was interrupted by an emergency. By the time I got home, it was time for bed.

Sit Spot Journal - Day 12

Sit Time: 6:30-6:50

Surrounded by fog, I hear geese overhead. Spring is near.

Sit Spot Journal - Day 11

Sit Time: 7:15-7:35 p.m.

Cold! Windy! The weather is brutal tonight. If I have to miss a Sit, I kind of wish it would have been tonight instead of last night. I am wearing multiple under layers, a down jacket, a hat and a hood. I sit with my back to the wind, and I still am about ready to bail and go inside the cabin where it is warm. The temperature has dropped into the upper teens, and is still dropping. The wind howls over the mountain and makes it feel even colder. I can't concentrate on much except how cold I am.

The stars are the color of fresh ice.

Sit Spot Journal - Day 10

I didn't expect to miss my Sit today, but I did. A vet appointment ran long, and a work day ran long combined to tie up my evening. By the time everything was done, it was time for bed. Will resum sitting tomorrow.

Sit Spot Journal - Day 9

Sit Time: 6:30 p.m. - 6:55 p.m.

There's nothing like adding fog to a night Sit. Now I really can't see anything and have no choice but to focus on sounds.

At first I hear the sounds of water dripping onto snow. It isn't raining, and I'm not being dripped on by the trees over me, but I can hear soft small sounds in the snow.

Overhead I hear a few Canada geese, then more. The flock doesn't sound large but the sounds don't seem to be moving very much, so I can't tell where they're going. I think they may be circling overhead and wonder if the fog has disoriented them or caused a few to get separated from the rest. For 10 minutes the sound of what sounds like a flock of 10-20 birds is all around me, a little to the north, then a little to the west and a little south.

I am sad to go inside (though there is work to be done and I must). I sit for 25 minutes, mostly listening to the geese call and honk.

Sit Spot Journal - Day 8

Sit Time: 7:30-7:50 p.m.

What a difference an hour makes. My early evening sits are typically around 6:30 or 7 p.m. Tonight's sit was a bit later, but felt quite a bit cooler in a chilly and damp way that intruded into my core. When I came inside I looked at the temperature: it was 28 degrees, not any colder and as much as 8-10 degrees warmer than one or two of my sits, but I felt a lot colder with this one.

It was a quiet sit, with only the slightest breeze. The breeze was too slight to hear or even for me to feel, but the small branches and needles on the pine tree next to my Sit Spot waved or perhaps just trembled slightly. The pine moves under the very tiniest wind. I have already learned to look to it to tell me if the wind is truly calm or simply lighter than I can feel.

Sounds: The only ones I heard tonight were human-created--planes overhead, a train in the distance, a car or truck out on the road. The evening moisture seemed to amplify the sounds. The jet was loud, though it was thousands of feet above me. The nearest train tracks are at least 5 miles away. The road where I heard the car is over a mile. Even living where I do isn't far enough away to eliminate the sounds of noisy humans.

Sights: I don't see much, or perhaps a better way to say it is that I don't focus on my sight during night sits. I see silhouettes of trees and notice if they stand straight or bend. Tonight, high clouds (and the still-bright moon) obscure all but a few of the brightest stars. A night sit with snow affords more to see than a night sit without snow, but certainly the woods are devoid of the activity of daylight. It is quiet and peaceful.

Sit Spot Journal - Day 7

Sit Time: 1:30-1:50 p.m.

This was a very birdy sit. The woods were full of birds. I couldn't look anywhere without seeing a bird or five.

Cardinals, carolina wrens and juncos were all singing as though it is spring, even though the day was overcast and chilly.

Although this was a fun sit, and even though I see a lot more during the daylight sits, I find I enjoy these mid-day sits less than I do the early evening sits. Sitting is relaxing, but when I sit in the middle of the day, when I still have a lot of activities ahead of me, I lose that relaxed feeling before the day ends.

In the evenings, I see less but enjoy the sits more and can move into calmer evening activities more easily.

Sit Spot Journal - Day 6

Sit time: 4:30 - 4:50 p.m.

Today, for no good reason that I can reasonably explain, I stood instead of sitting at my Sit Spot. I don't think I'll try that again any time very soon. It wasn't nearly as relaxing and sitting and observing what goes on around me.

I was surprised how quiet the woods were. Daylight now lasts until nearly 6 p.m. but I saw few birds, and it was as though they were already settling down for the night, though the day was clear and warm.

Sit Spot Journal - Day 5

Sights. Tonight it snowed during my Sit Spot. It was a powdery snow, sometimes heavy, sometimes fine. I felt it hit my cheeks and then melt. White snow on the ground brightened the forest around me, and I could see better and further tonight than I have been able to during any of my other night time Sit Spots.

The snow is so light, it's almost like bubbles. A little breeze blows it off the branches and trees, and it swirls like a white smoke before disappearing.

I sit still and am soon nearly snow-covered myself, feeling like an abominable snowman. I've never been still enough before to become covered with snow as it is falling.

Sounds. I can hear the snow as it falls on my coat. This is almost the only sound I hear. The forest is remarkably quiet. Even modern noises don't intrude, though in the distance I hear a motor, perhaps from an idling truck or bus. The snow falls on the deck around me, on my coat, little sounds, as tiny as the snowflakes themselves.

Sit Spot Journal - Day 4

I sat from 7:05 p.m. - 7:25 p.m.

Sights. I saw the moon move, rising in the east. I don't think I've ever actually seen it travel through the sky before. Oh, I've noticed before that it was in one spot only to look an hour or so later and notice it was elsewhere. And I've observed moonrise and moonset, but I don't remember watching it move when it was already well up in the sky. The moon moved faster than I expected it to, though why I expected its motion to be slower, I don't know.

The sky was clear when I started my sit but about halfway into the 20-minutes, a narrow bank of clouds raced across the sky, covering the stars for a few minutes before marching out of sight by the end of the sit.

It was cold tonight, somewhere in the upper teens.

Sit Spot Journal - Day 3

You can laugh at my little junco if you like. I know it's not very good.

I've always been jealous of those beautifully decorated nature journals that have lovely little drawings floating around beautiful prose written in lovely handwriting. You know the kind I mean.

My attempts to create something like that have fallen flatter than the only cake I have ever tried to bake. However, I do know that practice is needed to get better at anything. I have no illusions that practice will make perfect. Better is what I'm hoping for. So in addition to my 20 minute Sit Spot routine, I'm also practicing drawing my little feathered friends. I hope the practice helps.

Today I sat from 9:15 p.m. to 9:35 p.m.

This Sit Spot was a tough one for me. I didn't get home from a meeting until 9 p.m. The dogs needed to out. Chores needed done. It was dark, cold and very windy. Tonight I sat facing a new direction, so the wind hit my back instead of my face.

Sounds. The only sound I heard was the wind snarling around the mountain. Sometimes the wind snarled nearby, sometimes the wind was still where I sat but roared further up the mountain. When I'm in the middle of a breeze, it often feels as though it's "everywhere" around me, and I can forget that wind is more often "here" and then "there" with calm areas only a few feet away. The trees in the forest help me remember that, as I can track where the wind is by the sound of it in the trees.

Sights. The nearly full moon hid all but the brightest stars. A plane sliced through Orion like an arrow, then bisected the moon. Dead leaves cling to the beech trees, scrabbling against the branches like fingers on a chalk board.

Tonight I was glad to go back inside the cabin.

Sit Spot Journal - Day 2

Sitting from 4:45 p.m. - 5:05 p.m.

Sitting in daylight is a lot easier for me than sitting after dark. Today, evening is approaching, but some of the birds are still out and about.

Sights: A male northern cardinal doing something on the side of the beech tree. It looks as though he's hanging on the side of the tree without benefit of a branch, but it could simply be that I can't see the branch he's on. It looks as though he's pulling at something on the tree. Bark? A bug? It's too far to tell, but he's very focused on his job, whatever it is. I also see juncos, the blue jays and several mourning doves. Everyone looks as though they're getting ready to find a good spot and settle down for the night.

The shadows grow ever longer, and I begin to see the sun leave the ground. Now the sun only reaches the bushes, then its glow disappeared from the smaller trees, and finally, only the top branches are still sunlit.

Sounds: People are playing paintball near enough to me that I can hear their shouts and the sound of the guns. They are much louder than the birds.

Sensations: From where I'm sitting, the wind seems still. I don't feel breeze on my cheek, and the branches of the trees are still. But the small pine next to me tells me a different story. Its light branches wave gently, like fingers through water.

I'm dressed warmly but after 15 minutes I start to notice the cold. Usually when I'm outside, I keep moving and that keeps me warm. Without motion, the cold sneaks in as daylight falls.

Sit Spot Challenge - Day One

To begin:
I sit on my front deck, facing east, looking out into the woods. It is 7 p.m. and after dark on this February evening.

I can feel the temperature drop, minute by minute, as darkness deepens into night. Nature's sounds, the daylight sounds, have quieted. The birds are silent. The trees are silent. I still hear sounds but they are man's sounds. In the distance I hear people shouting over on the ski slopes, a train rumbling by miles away, a plane overhead. I am surprised at how much I hear out here that I can't hear when I'm inside the cabin.

The sky is clearing after a day of clouds. Baby Dog is with me, a mistake, I think. She is antsy, sticking her nose into everything and nothing, a bit of a distraction as I sit and do nothing.

I try to observe my surroundings, unused to sitting outside after dark with little to look at compared with the activity of day. After 5 minutes I am as antsy as Baby Dog and search for something to focus on, something to *do.* I persist and sit some more. After 15 minutes I begin to relax and the need to do something begins, just a little, to drop away.

The chill begins to reach under my coat, and after 20 minutes I am glad to return to the warmth of the cabin. I am more relaxed and quiet when I go inside. I think I will find sitting still for 20 minutes every day to be a challenge, but it's one that I can see value to. But next time, Baby Dog stays inside.