[BIRDS CHIRPING] ... [WIND RUSTLING]

It was a gray morning after weeks of bright sun. Any salt crust on the kayak left over from the Elkhorn Slough paddle was being rinsed off by the steady drizzle - there would be no playing in the water today. I took my oatmeal to that magical 55-inch window and pulled up a Netflix video, "Forests" to fill some quiet moments while planning what I expected would be a totally indoor day.

Enthralled by lovingly-photographed scenes of our northwest coast and woods, I was jarred by the appearance, in bright white bold font, of the words

[BIRDS CHIRPING]

I admit to being a bit annoyed at first, thinking, "How can I turn this off?!". But soon once again reminded myself of how precious our senses are, and how we take them for granted, etc.

How to best relate to those who have lost those gifts? Empathy is impossible, certainly not with pity. Perhaps simply by being aware of the preciousness of those gifts, and making best use of them. So ...

Minutes later during a lull in the sprinkle I leashed up the dogs and we headed out on a long walk with ears tuned not only for [BIRDS CHIRPING], but also [WIND RUSTLING] and [WATER GURGLING].

Of course the lull didn't last long, we got well dampened, so at home the doggies got well dried after kitchen-sink baths, and we all snuggled into the recliner in front of the wood stove for a bit of quiet time filled only with

[FIRE CRACKLING]

"Moving Art: Forests"; directed by Louis Schwartzberg