I don’t have children. I will someday, but not yet. I have 2 dogs, 2 cats and a husband. Already, I crave quiet. I don’t like background TV or movies so loud the neighbors are enjoying them also. I like a clean house. On Saturdays when my husband is at work, I sit down to play the piano and hours pass doing this soothing activity before I have the chance to realize time has even lapsed at all. I read books, I write (and dream about making a living doing it), I scrapbook…and I do it all in such a level of quiet that when the clock strikes on the hour I jump. That’s the kind of silence I like. That is serenity to me. That is peace.
This, my friends, is a bridge over the Laramie River. April in Wyoming means spring to Wyoming-ites, but it is still quite chilly. That means the walking paths are totally clear. No one is out in the brisk cold. No dogs are barking. No children are running up and down it screaming. No grown ups are jogging and attempting to sing along to their ipod. What that means is that this is also, at this time of year, peace.There comes a time when the green belt is so full of people and playing children that the crowds overflow onto the river banks for picnics and flying kites and while I appreciate the beauty of that season, this quiet season ranks as my favorite.
Walk this path in April and you will feel the abrupt chill of the Wyoming air placing prickling kisses on your cheeks. You will feel your cheeks turning a beautiful rosy red and the tip of your nose slowly becoming the temperature of the cool, early spring air. You will hear the wind whispering through the tree branches, down the trunk, across the barely sprouting glass, rushing up the path to your worn-out tennis shoes and traveling the length of your body up to your ears and telling you a story. Everyone hears their own story…some of trouble, some of happiness, some of strife, some of gain, some of riches, some of gold, some of beauty, some of rags, some of hope, some of despair, some of the future, some of the past. But each story is similar in that it is quietly whispered for only the listener to hear.
The river isn’t pretty right now, it is dark and cold. It is low and recovering from the harsh realities of winter. Very few fish jump from it. No ducks float it. You see the occasional, lonely crane. The trees aren’t green yet. The grass isn’t growing yet. The skies aren’t even completely blue yet. This time, this is nature’s quiet time. This is the time of year that coincides so perfectly with my version of peacefulness I can’t help but take advantage of it because soon, very, very soon…this exact spot will be bustling with activity, summer sports, sprawling vegetation, baby rabbits, jumping fish….and lots and lots of mosquitoes.
Hello April, I think I’d like it if you stayed awhile.
