Fall is imminent up here at the cabin. The days are getting shorter, the air is crisp and cool instead of sticky and hot, and the bugs have fell silent. The God-awful dreaded bugs of summer. They’re dwindling away and the nights have become silent again. Walking outside a month ago was, at times, a shock to the ears with all the katydids singing their majestic songs of summer. I happen to love that sound, while some others in my house loathe it. Hearing those little green bugs makes me happy and lulls me to sleep in the summer. It’s one of my favorite things about the hot months of the year.
But, alas, I’ve noticed for the past few evenings that the katydids have quieted down. There are no more glorious songs coming from the trees around the cabin. There’s still the occasional cricket and maybe a frog or two off in the distance, but for the most part, it’s become very silent up here on the mountain.
Don’t get me wrong. Silence is good, too. Silence means that pretty soon the leaves will begin their metamorphosis into a brilliantly, magnificent, colorful work of art that surrounds and envelopes the cabin on all four sides. The heavens will keep getting clearer and clearer with every passing day. They’ll be filled with those wonderfully white clouds that pop against the background of the vivid blue sky. The flowers of fall will be glorious in their rich colors. Afternoons will be spent gathering the last of the summer’s bounty from the garden in preparation for the long winter ahead. And it’ll be time, once again, for comfy, cozy, warm jammies and socks, curled up with blankets and loved ones in front of the fireplace.
Yes, the sound of silence is a good thing.