A mountain morning is like no other. Compared to waking in the city– sounds of sirens, trash trucks, and wanna-be singers belting out songs, using the walled lines of apartment buildings as their reverberation tool–its wild is that of another tune altogether.
I’m convinced the call of wild turkeys sounds like a comedy club in the backyard. The gobble-squak comes out sounding like they’re cracking up, which in turn cracks me up. It’s a wonderful cycle. “Here comes the comedy club! Haha!” I’m convinced they’re laughing at us, laughing at them. “Here come the crazy laughing humans! Haha!”
Finches fly from their perches in the surrounding trees, singing their way through the dusky morning. The rustling leaves from deer herding through, the younger bambies romping through. Doves adding their calm coos, soothing in their soft ways.
And occasional sneezes from some part of the house as we’re in the thick of allergy season.
Gigi pup scours the terrace, listening, exploring for scents and bugs and leaves that she can play with.
All in all it’s a beautiful way to wake up–magical really. So much green, so much life, so much wild in the backyard.
And I love it.