Living right above the river is such a treat! I can only see a bit of it, during late winter – the big bend heading east. But I get to hear all the sounds on the river. And I can now tell the difference in fireworks sounds between when the Cincinnati Reds hit a home run, and when they actually win the game.
The sounds of airplanes coming in over the river tells me that the red eye traffic – 5 a m or so – has picked up after years of being basically stilled. And the trains along the river run intermittently – sometimes several in a night, sometimes none for several days.
There are really no calliopes – the steamboat musical organs – on the river anymore. Maybe once a year when a steamboat from elsewhere visits. I would love to have that sound back – rather than the occasional canned music from a boat with loud speakers.
My favorite, though, is the fog horns. And they could be heard this morning, so I was not surprised to open my eyes to a very foggy day. The barges that travel up and down the river go slow in fog, pushing their several-football-fields-long decks of cargo warily when they cannot see ahead. Mournful and beautiful.