The sound of silence happens on a lake, at a cabin in Nissaw, Minnesota. Interruptions occur only by the neighbors, an aquatic family of Gaviidae, three (common black throated loons) that have nested on the DNR float just past the dock. The adolescents are fast becoming experts at fishing and learning the skill necessary to survive. At first, they’re hesitant to dive, now it’s about feeding the hungry feeling and adding mass. Migration south to the Gulf of Mexico starts in just a few weeks. The mother urges her chicks with a mournful cry that is unmistakable. A screeching cautious high note quickly dropping to low bass tones of sorrow and disparity.
There’s no internet at the lake. Never has been so it’s not entirely missed. In fact, it doesn’t even come up in conversation unless you mention it in question to another human back in town. Then they might just give you a funny look. Ah, the Look. One of those skeptical grimaces that scrunches together on a face that makes the bearer appear a bit afraid with a bit of disbelief. If you get the look, don’t take it personal. Remember to relax and enjoy the day. You’re at the lake for goodness sakes.
Weather happens on the lake. Silence is golden probably because it is so scarce . Nature itself roars. Wind is the true power and it can appear at any moment. From a slight breeze in the branches the wind can sneak up and churn the water into a deadly foam. The danger is always present and it’s wise to respect the power. Don’t fight it and don’t try and run. If you can, hunker down and wait it out. Let it pass and hope it spares you. I have a huge respect for big water and high wind. I’ve lost a dear friend who was within 100 feet of shore. The first wave fills the boat with water and the second wave takes everything away. If anything can be gained from such a tragedy, it’s this. Respect the weather.
Brussels to Bangkok 