Each season has its own scent and soundtrack. I can close my eyes, ignore the temperature and know what season it is by these sounds and the scents.
Autumn brings the rustle from leaves being swept across the pavement, and the crunch from these leaves as we walk through them. Canada geese honk in the sky and crows caw to notify their kin of a newly harvested field. The air is dry and crisp, so the sounds from hunting and other machines are louder and more differentiated.
Winter is cold silence, especially the surreal quiet after a snowstorm, when every sound seems to be absorbed into the surroundings. When there is no snow, echoes and sounds are louder because there is no flora to absorb them. Most birds have migrated or gone into the woods; only the cars or the lonely sound of a dog barking remain.
Spring adds warmth to the cool air, and a natural perfume wafting from the flowering bushes and trees. When the rain comes, I hear the sounds of the rain pattering onto the pavement. The birds sing endlessly as they celebrate their return and prepare their nests for their families.
Summer is also unique. In the early morning, the paradactyl squawks from the great blue heron rookery on the nature trail echo in the sky as one parent returns from night duty and the other takes flight in the morning to hunt for food.
The whining lawn mowers, leaf blowers, and weed whackers punctuate the peaceful silence but leave the sweet smell of cut grass. There are mid-summer celebrations that bring loud pops and booms that pierce the night air.
Then there are the thunderstorms, miraculous and frightening events where bright lightening briefly illuminates the sky, followed by the clash of thunder. Just before the rain arrives, the air takes on a metallic scent. The rain is no gentle pitter-patter as in spring, instead it pounds the ground and slaps the windshield if you are unlucky enough to be driving through it.
The spring flowers are gone, but some scented flowers remain. The honeysuckle’s sweet smell lingers in the humid air, phlox and roses share their perfume.
Along the rivers and creeks there is a faint smell of brine, decay, and fish that lingers in the warm, humid aid. Blue-gray rivers wind leisurely around the green patches of cattails and woodland along their sandy banks. A cloudless, pastel blue sky is quiet except for an occasional lone osprey circling overhead. The houses lining the shore are grand and crisply painted, featuring long docks with shiny white sailboats and power boats.
Mid-summer also brings the ubiquitous farm stands. You can smell the sweet scent of corn, ripe red tomatoes; dark green zucchini with white speckles; creamy yellow squashes; green and white freckled pickling cucumbers; deep red-, green- and yellow-colored peppers. The fruits come and go with the seasons, mid-summer brings the sweet smells of peaches, cherries, dirt-encrusted cantaloupes, and watermelons of all shades of green.
The chirps and melodies by the birds are fewer in the summer, but their songs provide a soprano soundtrack in the hot, humid air. Summer brings the percussion instruments. The locusts whine, a low rambling hum that reaches a crescendo, slowly dwindles to silence and recycles. The large, annual cicadas emerge from their cocoons and add to the percussion section with a sound that resembles a mechanic’s ratchet. Their relentless beat has earned them the nickname “dog day cicadas.”
At dusk, I can hear the quail (bob white) calling. Only a few chirps and tweets remain as the rest of the birds settle down on their branches or nests for the evening. As darkness falls, the sounds quiet down, the fireflies sprinkle light, the summer heat rises from the pavement and the long day ends, only to repeat itself the next day.
There is something about summer, its soft, lazy days. But unfortunately, with this heat wave it is best enjoyed when at daybreak and during the comforting summer nights.
Angela Rieck, a Caroline County native, received her PhD in Mathematical Psychology from the University of Maryland and worked as a scientist at Bell Labs, and other high-tech companies in New Jersey before retiring as a corporate executive. Angela and her dogs divide their time between St Michaels and Key West Florida. Her daughter lives and works in New York City.
