Nature Calling
7:30am. I woke up to the roar of a trimmer, a leaf blower and a rake, orchestra of landscape artists cleaning up the edges of bush growth for the manicured look I both appreciate and disdain. I lost the comfort of quiet in my bed and stared at the brushstrokes of my stucco ceiling wishing I could close my eyes. Then faintly and with more clarity came a sound, sweet and joyful tune that a small bird would speak with. It was a whistle, the jovial repartee to the clanking promenade. It made me smile from my initial irritation that the blower horn call might be my weekly Friday alarm (coming an hour early I am a little sad to say). Humans shape and disturb nature, industrialization displayed, and by the same body who wielded that blaring tool also did one of the most natural things a human could do; make music with lips, enchant as birds do, disrupt that city machine language. That whistle reminded me how we are a part of nature. In the micro sense, it is the kind of sound I’ll happily wake up to.