My garden can be idyllic with its flowers and birdsong but gardening in the city requires some selective listening. I hear birds serenading with crickets and frogs adding their choruses but that’s not all I hear. Compressors from the nearby light industry chirp, punctuated by occasional air hose blasts. A Dumpster-dumping truck clunks, alarming car horns repeatedly blast, occasional parking lot quarrels rage and radio talk shows suffocate the air. A train rattles down a nearby track—as many as five times a day. Once a week, the lawn crew descends with their mowers and blowers. Below, large air conditioner fans blow their regular cycles.
Cats sometimes howl as though it were night and birds have territorial spats—these I inform that they are to, “Stop that right now. We can’t have that around here,” the birds often obey but cats, well they’re cats…
Thankfully, not all these things happen at once so I can often tune them out; choosing what I listen to. And sometimes, surprisingly often, there’s no sound at all; I’m not altogether sure I like it that quiet.
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