The movement of sound

I am quietly and happily racking up the miles as part of my #walk1000miles. However, I am finding that, other than the obvious miles - I can fit in a size smaller jeans (happy dance) and feel to have more endorphine-fueled energy. Apart from a still tender ankle - it is all good so far :D

Black jeans - trousers of choice up to December

Blue jeans - got them on now!

I do have another rather interesting 'side-effect' to all this walking ... I am learning to listen - not just listen but learning to hear ...

Himself bought a book for me Nan Shepherd - The Living Mountain. She writes lyrically yet factually about the mountains of the Cairngorms. She intensely weaves her words describing both the harshness of the terrain but its beauty too in wonderfully poetic prose. 

I was captivated. I was captivated by her understanding. Her finding the 'inside' of mountains and listening to their hearts. I fell under her spell when she wrote about lying on the rocks, looking upward into an endlessly blue sky as she listened to the sounds of the river tumbling over stones as the water falls into the loch.

She urges listening - listening to the trees, listening to the stones, hearing the sound of the wind, bird song, the rustling of grass, the crackle of leaves. I drink in each word and when we are out walking I have found that I now actually see things, hear sounds, feel.

Yesterday we were out walking in the Dales and although just a gentle yomp through fields and lanes there was so much to see, to hear and feel more.

The rivers - a sound that has always captured me - were quite full from all the recent rains. I listened, properly, breaking through the layers of splashes and could hear a variety of tones. The deep timpani drum of moving water above a deep hole, the musical tinkle of a thin layer of water tumbling over smaller rocks, The middle ground of wooshing, slushing, dashing and slopping - filling the space - making a fluid wall of moving sound.

I observed the silvery silence of deep water - so clear that I could see the rocks and pebbles littering the river bed. I watched ripples of water, catching the gentle February sunlight, then as the ridge of water became a trough - the spark of light vanished leaving a deep dark groove. Magical.

I thought I 'got a lot' from walking - and I do, however this added element to being out and being 'in' nature has added so much more colour to a passion of mine - I shall continue to absorb, see and enjoy. There is so much still to learn xxxx

Enjoy the rest of your weekend and have a good week xx