One of the first things I noticed about living in the woods is that it is not a quiet place. I wouldn’t call it “noisy” though. While it seems to never be silent around here, the sounds of the forest silence me. They cause me to stop and listen, senses tuned in.
One of my favorite sounds here is that of the rain, and just today I heard it again. Millions of droplets hitting millions (billions?) of leaves. Were I a musician I could probably find some term to describe it. All that comes to mind is amplified, or maybe resonating? The leaves like microphones. Maybe the coolest part is when it stops raining. Rain is no longer falling from the sky, but it still rains in the forest. All the droplets still falling down from leaf to leaf.
By the sound of it, you would swear it was still actually raining. I have walked down the long driveway (just about the only place besides our house where trees are not overhead) after the rain has stopped and was amazed that I was not getting wet. It was not raining, but it was raining. I am reminded of how I used to sit on my front porch when I was younger, on bright yellow furniture, and listen to the rain without getting wet.
Of course there’s the wind blowing through the trees, too. Sometimes it sounds to me almost like the waves of the Great Lake that is not too far away. Branches always swaying, leaves always shaking, even in the slightest breeze. Always music in the forest.