The Return of Sound.

If you have ever lived through any long and snowy winter, you will understand what I mean when I say it is really quiet outside. It's like the entire world is wearing earmuffs. Not only do the piles upon piles of snow absorb what sound there is, there are just very few other things that stir in the winter. Crunching snow under boots and tires, cranky engines rattling along, and crows. And usually you miss most of those noises, because your ears are hiding under your hat, and your head is jammed down in your coat collar to keep out anything and everything cold. Winter is a time when visual people have it better than audio people. And after a while, there isn't even much to look at. Usually you just stare down at your boots and try not to slip and fall upon whatever foreign and slippery stuff the sky has decided to dump in your path.

But this does change.

Believe it or not, Minnesota, your time is coming.

Un-muff your ears and listen to the sound.

I stepped outside today to walk to work in Dinkytown. Sometimes this has not been the most pleasant of doings, as the walk is either cold, or windy, or muddy, or slippery, or all those combined. But not today. No, sir. Today is a day where you ditch the bus and walk it.

The first thing I noticed besides the snow being virtually gone and the sun shining, is how dang loud it is out there! Twitterpated birds grace the trees, and hop about in their busy birdly ways. Cars whoosh past, instead of grumpily crawling along in the ice and snow. Bike after bike clicks by, rollerblades rumble, longboards skid, and feet shuffle on the cleared sidewalks and roadways. Dead leaves, newly released from their snowbank prisons, scuttle across paths and intersections like crunchy crabs. It's like the world is breathing again.

I got through a short shift at work, inhaled my tasty soup with homemade croutons, and stepped out into the sunbathed streets. No going home yet for this one. I strolled past Annie's Parlour up into the Knoll on campus, seeking out my favorite bench under my favorite tree. Sadly, it was occupied by some hipster, taking a break from biking along to eat a peanut butter sandwich, or something. That was alright. I now have a mutual bench-loving friend. He knows where it's at.

I ended up parking myself on the long granite bench area around the statue of John Sargent Pillsbury, who sadly had his granite pedestal defaced by someone who wrote the word "WHO?" in huge red letters. Perhaps they'd find the answer to their question if they'd read the plaque they were defacing. Or use Wikipedia. I found myself verbally apologizing to Mr. Pillsbury, telling him that it'd get cleaned off soon, and that I liked him. He just kept gazing out through his metal statue eyes--perhaps listening to the chickadee who perched on the branch behind him to tell him its secrets.

(what this chap looks like later in spring, and when he's not defaced....)

And so I sat, along that granite wall, reading The Artist's Way, eating a free cookie from work, sipping juice, and just basking in the sun. The bright sun reflected off the granite, making my world seem like a little convection oven. I found myself chiding the only cloud in the sky for blocking out the sun. Why would you do that? Go somewhere else. Give me all the sun possible, please. Eventually, I counted to ten, and he moseyed on out. I watched the shadows recede across the knoll, and my world was bright and happy again. People bustled past, on foot, and on bikes. Birds yelled from tree to tree. Leaves rustled. A big fat house fly came to sit on my foot, and I quickly scowled at him to beat it. He was the first bug I have seen, though. Hm.

Anyways, I eventually decided to move on, and strolled back through the Knoll towards my apartment. The sideways were busy with chatty people, something that is not as common to see when it's cold out. People start to project their voices when it's warm, instead of struggling to form words behind their scarves. The tall guy in front of me began to whistle some tuneless tune, seemingly enjoying his stroll as much as I was. I eventually made it back to my apartment, where I am sitting and eating walnuts and listening to cars, trains, trucks and buses move around outside. The whistle of some sports coach is repeatedly echoing across the neighborhood from the University's practice field. And birds. The birds are crazy.

Like I said. Sound has returned to the world. All day I have just wanted to yell at passers-by "DITCH YOUR HEADPHONES, PEOPLE. THAT SONG CAN'T BE AS GOOD AS THIS."

But whatever. Headphones have their place, too.

Alright. I think I'm going to fire up some incense and go about designing a band poster. Audios.

Songs of the Day:

Section 8 City by Andrew Bird (watch that link. this man is amazing)

Colour in Your Hands (Scandinavia Edit) by D.L.i.d

The Shadow Proves the Sunshine by Switchfoot

Yawny at the Apocalypse by Andrew Bird.

The soundtrack from Pride & Prejudice (I am not a Jane Austen fan, but that movie has a great aesthetic...and soundtrack)