Queensborough is a quiet place. Of course you knew that, because I’ve told you so many times. But somehow – perhaps because I spend most of my days in a big noisy city – I can never quite get over my delight at how quiet it is when Raymond and I come to Queensborough.
A week ago today I spent the entire morning and much of the afternoon raking the last of the fall and winter debris from the Manse lawn. It was hard work, and every now and again I treated myself to a little sitdown on the sun-warmed cement steps on the south side of the back porch to rest, have a large drink of water, and look out at and listen to what was going on. Which was not much. Birds flying around. A rooster somewhere up the road who seemed not clear on the concept that it was considerably past dawn. The wind in the branches. The video at the top of this post is a very brief sample of what I saw and heard. Turn the volume up and you’ll hear gentle birdsong. And I bet you’ll be a little envious of us for having this lovely peaceful place to go to.
But there was another sound in Queensborough this past visit too – and it was a much more raucous one, though no less beautiful.
Six weeks ago, in mid-March, I wrote about how much I was looking forward to hearing the ultimate sound of winter’s end in Queensborough: the peepers who sing their springtime chorus in the wetland areas of the village. Well, starting every early evening last week, the peepers were going full tilt. And here they are, recorded from the front yard of the Manse:
Today in Montreal, with spring having rather precipitously turned to what more resembled a hot summer day, I fear the peepers in faraway Queensborough will be done, or almost. Another spring gone.
But spring always comes again. As do the peepers.