I can hear the cicadas buzzing outside today. When I was really young and didn’t know what a cicada was, I imagined the sound was the sun beating down on those intensely hot summer days, like a magnifying glass on the pavement. Strange how our minds invent what we can’t explain.
I was sorting through my computer files this morning and came across a short video I recorded at Mer Bleue a couple of years ago. My Mom and I had gone down to listen to the Spring Peepers (frogs) singing. We didn’t see any frogs, but we could certainly hear them:
Sometimes I can hear the most beautiful songbirds in the woods, and when I follow those sounds, they disappear. Being a photographer, I am sometimes frustrated by the fact that I can hear what is there but I can’t see it. But then I stop and remember that not all things are meant to be seen. It’s how they survive.