The sound of Autumn
Enjoying the last of the light in the garden on a rare warm day, we become aware of something. Beyond the reach of conscious hearing, there is a change in the air, a tingling. We pause, our senses alert. The tingling becomes a murmur; it swells, becoming a distinct and many-voiced sound. Geese. A long skein of geese wavers into view over the treetops, passing over the turrets of the castle in their autumn migration.
Their voices bell out into the dusk, filling the sky, setting the dogs racing across the grass, yapping hysterically in vain pursuit. I can understand the dogs’ impulse. The sound of the geese never fails to thrill me too.
You might enjoy a post about other migratory visitors, A glory of swans.