Monday, May 18, 2015

Q is for Quiet

Pet Duck. © B. Radisavljevic
As I thought about what "Q" would stand for tonight, my first thought was "quack." My neighbor has a pet duck (pictured here) and I hear it quacking quietly whenever it's near me. It's actually a pleasant sound. Certainly not like the annoying cuckoo I hear from morning till night when I'm living in Paso Robles. (You can make any photo larger by clicking it.)

Vehicles Parked on Residential Street, © B. Radisavljevic
There are many sounds when I live even in this small city, compared to when I'm home in Templeton surrounded by my neighbors' vines. There are loud cars coming and going even in the middle of the night. Noisy trucks park right under my window. We won't even mention the gardeners who seem to sync their schedules to make sure at least one of them is operating something noisy in a neighboring house daily. And then there is that cuckoo.

When I thought about that, I remembered why we moved to a rural area in the first place. It isn't always quiet. There is an occasional tractor or chain saw. But at dusk, when the workers have quit for the day, it becomes quiet. It becomes so quiet you can hear the quiet. Quiet is a rare sound in our world where we seem to be constantly bombarded by radios, TV, traffic sounds, piped in music in waiting rooms, and human cries and shouts.

Steinbeck Vineyard, © B. Radisavljevic
When I'm surrounded with the cacophony of life, I love to retreat to a vineyard to walk where I can feel the peace that comes with quiet again. I usually  go to Doce Robles, Zenaida, or Peachy Canyon vineyards because they are close.  I like to walk there in the late afternoon as the sun is going down. That gives me added beauty in the sky.

On the particular day this was taken I was attending a meeting at the Steinbeck Vineyards, and I took advantage of the opportunity to grab this photo. It was quiet except for the song birds, whose music just seemed appropriate to the scene.

Sundown in Rivebank Tract, © B. Radisavljevic
When I went out to photograph the truck beside my house, its engine was quiet. In fact the neighborhood itself was quiet on this Sunday evening as I said goodbye to the sun.  Only the distant noise of freeway traffic on the hill broke the silence. That quiet very much suited the peace of this sunset.
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