Making Peace with Backyard Acoustics

I am staying at a home in a quaint neighborhood near the foothills of the mountains north of Atlanta. The rear of the property abuts a busy two-lane road, but a barrier of massive trees on the berm of that road and a six-foot fence protects the backyard and shields it from road noise. While sipping tea on the patio, I am immediately aware that the morning rush hour traffic dominates the audio ambiance despite the camouflage.

By late morning, clutching a second cup, traffic is less blaring, although still steady. Occasionally, there is a lull in the vehicle din, and I hear nature: a morning dove coos from a nearby branch lamenting about the disappeared dawn and another of its species chirps its plans for the afternoon. The lull lasts only about thirty seconds, but it is enough for me to appreciate God’s great outdoors despite modern transportation.

Neither bird is visible to me because I am not wearing my corrective lenses, but I know they are in attendance for my entertainment. When I can no longer hear them, I close my eyes and imagine how my other senses might experience their proximity. I sense the soft wisp of the wind as they flit from tree to tree and visualize the texture of their wings.

Mid-afternoon, I step outdoors again to absorb rays from the sun which cover parts of the patio and the backyard. This time, I carry a glass of ice water and set it in the shade to perspire. The air conditioner kicks in within minutes and hums relentlessly as it works hard to cool the house.

Auto noises continue to overpower the voices of nature, but I sometimes catch glimpses of shadows on the ground as birds soar above my head. As it did earlier, a short-lived lull in traffic allows me to discern a high-pitched tweet from a bashful bird who refuses to reveal itself. The yard is a minor haven for small land and sky creatures, but I assume that the intense heat keeps them burrowed or hidden as they partner with the traffic to conceal their presence.

At one point, my ears identify an eight-wheeler sharing the road with its four-wheeled cousins that drive incessantly on the other side of the wooden barrier. The terrace, attractively lined with pine needles, ornamental trees, and shrubbery, slopes from the fence to the grass but unfortunately, there is no match for constant car clamor. I remind myself that the pool I am missing on this smoking hot day would not exist without commercial vehicles and gratitude replaces irritation.

Wiping sweat from my brow, I escape to interior coolness, grateful also for the air conditioner that would not shut up. Light rain falls during supper, a summer shower that does not last long. Afterward, I pour myself a glass of white wine and head back outdoors, settling into a dry, cushioned chair in the covered part of the patio.

The sun has descended, but now it is humid. The sound of traffic seems muffled, perhaps because of the darkness, or maybe because I’ve gotten used to it. Nevertheless, I am not disturbed because thousands of crickets have come to serenade me to a concert that saturates the evening.

Whether the effect of the wine or less whine, I begin to feel mellow. With mellowness comes reflection and with reflection comes more gratitude. I am grateful for the sparse nature I’ve experienced today even if it was not as much as I had hoped for, but I’m also thankful for all the non-nature that enriches my daily life.

The meals I consume, the clothing I wear, and the materials that put a roof over my head are all benefits of modern technology blended with nature. Man grows then sows, mines and designs, imports, and transports. Even brewing hot tea would not be convenient were it not for my electric kettle and life without ice cream from the freezer would be a colossal loss!

So, I am willing to deal with unwanted auto-related decibels, if only occasionally. This day has taught me to be a tad more tolerant and not as frustrated when things are not ideal. Life is good, today was a good day, and I look forward to another good tomorrow.