I went blueberry picking on Saturday. I cannot say that picking is fun, far from it, it’s all hard work but I enjoy going out because of the peace I encounter on a patch.
Sometimes I listen to music or sing as I pick but this time around, I wanted to listen to the nature around me. I would challenge myself to block all other sounds except for one. It’s amazing what your ears will pick up when you do that.
I picked up a lot of interesting sounds but what held my attention the longest was the wind. Wild blueberries grow best in areas where trees are short and shrubs are plenty, this particular patch had tall trees surrounding it in a U shape. As I picked berries I would hear the different sounds of the wind, as if everything around me was there to translate what the wind was saying.At times the trees sounded like a group of overly excited girls sharing sweet morsels of gossip, pausing from time to time to make sure no one was listening to them. The soft whoosh and rustle of the leaves like lovers whispering sweet nothings to each other, other times it sounded as if the wind from different directions was converging on the patch, reminding me of the steady hum of a busy international airport. So much going on at the same time but all in an orderly fashion Then other times the wind would howl, the trees would bow, the shrubs shudder like friends in a heated argument aware that the longer they went on the harder it would be to repair the damage. Nothing good ever comes from gossip even though at first it’s tantalizing to the ear.
Looking to the sky I could see that the wind was bringing rain, I tried to hurry along with my picking but I would relapse to a slow pace as I again sat in silence and listened to the wind and the conversations it brought my way.