I really live so much in the woods that I have no neighbors. At least, that’s true from April through mid-November. Then, suddenly, I can see the big bend in the Ohio River. And I can see the two big condo buildings across the street. Plus even the neighbors on the street behind me, separated though we are by a steep-ish hill and woods.
I love seeing the river, especially on mornings where there’s sunshine glinting off the water – it looks like a gold shimmering ribbon of light. The rest of the time, it’s a patch of gray, a different shade from the sky, but just as gray.
I also love hearing the river sounds – very occasionally a calliope (there are only a few left on the boats that ply the waters). More often the horns of the tug boats and the scenic paddlewheels. And then the boom of fireworks when the Reds hit a homerun, and when they win the game.
So my neighbors are about to disappear from view – the leaves start from the low bushes, then the young trees get covered, then the old giants sprout their leaves and – Voila! I have my own very private nest again.
I’ll still hear the river sounds – but I won’t see the river from my big front window and porch until the earth is cooling down again next fall.