I go to bed early and I rise early. Maybe it is my age, maybe it is a Southern thing. I am generally in bed by eight and awake at four and although I am in bed at those times it does not mean that I am asleep. I love to listen to the sounds outside my window, especially in the winter. I will pull all of the covers up to my chin, lie on my side and listen to the sounds outside my window.
I love trains and one of my earliest childhood memories in East Atlanta is hearing them at night on the tracks of what is now the Southside Beltline Trail. The low, mournful sounds of the train horns bring an inner peace to me that is hard to describe. Depending on the proximity of the crossing, you can even hear the sound of the wheels on the tracks. In the early Eighties we lived in a house on Ellenwood Road and had no trouble hearing the trains then, because the tracks were right beside the house. The horns were not mournful or peaceful. They were loud and forceful and you could definitely hear the wheels on the tracks. Depending on how fast the engineer had the train rolling, it would sometimes sound like it was about to derail. We heard the planes too, because the house was also right under a landing pattern. If the clouds were low it would sound as if they were setting down on top of the roof.
A couple of years later we moved further to the east, off of Fairview Road. I could still hear the trains at night, but it was much more soothing. Over time, I figured out from the sound which crossing the train was going through. Ellenwood was the closest crossing to our house, so that was when the horn was the loudest. There was the crossing at Rex to the south, Grant Road to the north and if the night was quiet enough, you could faintly hear the locomotive going through the crossing at Conley. I learned to tell which direction the trains were going and how fast they were moving from the time the horn blew at each crossing. On busy nights you could hear the trains about every ten minutes or so and I fell asleep many a night listening to the locomotives moving the freight on down the line.
Here in Conyers there are also crossings within a fairly close proximity of our house. Almost every night and early morning I can hear the trains crossing Almon Road, Gees Mill Road, Old Covington Highway and going through Olde Town Conyers. Old Covington Highway is the crossing that is closest to us. It is more difficult to ascertain the direction the train is traveling because the crossings are closer together, but the speed is still easy to tell and the train does not slow down going through Olde Town. I suppose that my childhood is never far from me, because I will lay in bed and wonder where the train has been, where it is headed and what it must be like to be an engineer guiding it through the darkness.
I love the rain and can lie in bed for hours listening to it outside my window. It often prevents me from getting up and being functional. Going to bed or waking up, I can listen to it for hours on the roof and outside the window, the harder the rain the better. I will often wake at night, hear it outside my window and, like the sound of the trains, listen happily and sleepily before drifting back off to the land of nod
Early in the morning the birds began stirring in the trees, singing and calling. I can tell when they are feeding in the back yard due to the volume, although some mornings I think they are shouting at me because I neglected to fill the feeders. I recognize the songs of the cardinal, the towhee, the wren and, of course, the blue jay. When I hear the birds, I know it is time to get up and start moving.
There is one sound outside my window that I am not fond of. It usually occurs on Saturday mornings, sometimes even Sundays. That is the sound of the leaf blower. The lawnmower, the chainsaw, the string trimmer and the hedge clipper usually follow it. I realize they are the sounds of the suburbs and use these implements myself, but anytime before 8am on Saturday or 12pm on Sunday is just plain wrong.
I love the silence. I know it may sound strange, but I listen to the silence. I listen to it intently and it is amazing what you can hear in the silence. It comes from within. I hear different things in the silence, but also the same thing. Silence can’t be made. It happens on its own and it is both external and internal. Silence must be listened to very carefully because it is easily broken. And once silence is broken it is gone forever, until another silence comes along and takes its place. I love it when the silence comes at dusk and I lay in bed and watch the night fall through the shades. It is beautiful, it is fulfilling and it is spiritual.