I start my sound walk in my backyard, ringed with woods that are filled with the sounds of peepers. The sound is somewhat metallic and instead of individual peepers making individual sounds, it seems as if they are making one sound that stays constant. Behind that sound is some sort of industrial clamor that is also constant and vibratory that detracts from the sound of the peepers.
As I leave my yard and walk to the sidewalk, I hear the coarseness of the sand on the cement as I step and my footsteps making a noise like a faint hoof beat. An occasional dry leaf rustles beneath my feet. An acorn crunches. A car goes by and decelerates as it stops at the corner, then accelerates as it turns. I realize some cars have more pleasant or less intrusive motor sounds. A stick snaps when I step on it.
The PVTA bus passes by and its engine seems to be a diesel. I listen to my breath which is silently escaping my nose then the wind blows and I feel, and perhaps I hear nearly imperceptibly, my breath as it pushes against the wind.
One bird is singing and another as well, different cadences and notes but pleasantly complementing one another. A squirrel is chirping and there is a wind chime blowing which does not sound as pretty as they do in a store; it is a false tinny sound though made as a sort of instrument.
A man is training a puppy and he gives a command and walks back and forth away from me on a side street. A mile passes very quickly.
My sound walk stops with a friend’s voice calling to me. I consciously try to listen to the nature sounds as she talks and find I have lost them unless I ignore her. It is very difficult to both hear her and listen to something else.