What is quiet to
you? A city at night, the background
noises muffled by thick walls? A distant
train whistle in a small town? Or
crickets at night, nothing else around?
How about a place so quiet that you can hear the clipping of a horse’s
hooves, a hundred yards away, on the blacktop of an isolated country lane?
Here is a picture that speaks quiet to me. Snow mutes sounds both near and far. The countryside is asleep, and everyone is
inside, where a wood stove provides the heat.
There is no clanging from the metal parts of a windmill. There is nothing happening on the farm. And only once in a while does a buggy happen
by.
You hear the hooves first, and then the rattle of the
undercarriage and wheels becomes audible.
It seems loud as it passes, but that is a relative thing. After it has gone, the quiet returns. If you stand there long enough to let your
ears adjust, you pick out the faint trill of water running in the drainage
ditch beside the road. It’s still
winter, but you want to think spring. In
Ohio, that
means that it is still possible for a deep freeze that silences even the noise
of the snow melting.
That is true quiet – a place so cold that nothing
moves. I’m sure it’s coming again, maybe
one more time before the end of March.
But for now, quiet is that little trickle of water beside the road, the
snow melting for the moment, in a February thaw.
It seems almost to be a racket, once your ears adjust to the
silence all around. And if you live in
the city, it’s a quiet you’ve probably never heard.
Labels: Amish, Amish Culture, Amish-Country Mysteries, Holmes County, P. L. Gaus
