Morning is quiet again. Sort of. The distant whine is gone and when I step out on my deck, birds are all I hear. The cicadas started early this summer–not the usual ones, not the dog day ones, not the ones that make me sad. These were the Magicicada Brood III, the Iowa Brood, the ones that emerge every seventeen years.
Their noise traveled through the woods every morning and stayed for the day. The ones in our trees were quiet until the sun hit hard, as though they wanted more sleep before they added their rolling rhythm to the collective drone.
They slipped away in the same way they arrived. One day the air became quiet. Now their shed skins and holes in the dirt are all that’s left to fill the space where their sound had been.
They are gone, just like the years that preceded them. Seventeen summers ago, I was twenty-eight with a toddling one-year-old. In seventeen more I will be sixty-two and probably a grandma. The silence tells me to pay attention to today, to its people and its work, and to love them both.
And you? Though moments of silence are rare, what does the quiet say to you?
Sharing today at Kelli’s Unforced Rhythms.
Quiet is one of my very favorite things! When we moved into the country about 4 years ago, I thought I would hate the commute. But I find the 30 minutes of silence helps me decompress and wash away the day, preparing me for home. It always reminds me, too, of how much noise I tolerate during my days. Love spending some quiet moments with you here.
Silence does hard work for the mind and the soul and heart, I think. My husband loves his commute between work and our home in the country for the same reason. I don’t commute, but I love the presence of all the critters that make for a different kind of silence outside. Thanks for being here.
I love this post – Natalie, the way your words make the silence felt. I love the idea of cicadas and one of the most memorable experiences I’ve had is seeing one poised on the side of a tree as it broke free from the old skin – half in, half out. Lately the silence tells me there is More and to Breathe. Thanks for linking with Unforced Rhythms!
Half-in, half-out…We’re all kind of like that aren’t we, living in the now and the not yet? Thanks for sharing that image, Kelly and for being here.
An interesting perspective on cicadas… makes me not cringe quite as much at the thought of them. 🙂 Quiet, if I let it, reminds me of my longing for Him. For Love that satisfies. Visiting you from Kelli’s place today, and thank you, too, for your comment in my space. 🙂 Bless you, Natalie!
The song of the cicada has made me sad since I was a little girl. These may have helped me past that to something greater and I hope you are able to, as well, Dana. Thank you for sharing your thoughts with me today.
Oh how I love quiet moments. I live for them actually. I can take noise and crowds and enjoy them for a long while, but eventually, get me back to the quiet where I can think and pray and sit with it all for awhile. I’m in a relatively quite stage of life now (although our kids say otherwise), with kids out of the house and no grandkids yet born. It’s peaceful and good. Thanks for sharing this, Natalie.
Good things happen in the quiet. My kids are with their grandparents this week so while I’m enjoying some silence, it is a deafening reminder that noise is evidence of some of the very best things. Thanks for being here and sharing your thoughts, Lisa.