One of the things I love most about living in a rural area is the peace and quiet. I lived in New York City for 5 years and the noise was nonstop, even in the dead of night. It was almost as if the city itself was alive and the sounds were its lungs inhaling and exhaling, 24 hours a day. I got used to these noises almost immediately and eventually they became soothing white noise. These were sounds you could go to sleep to. Now, on the other hand, in the sticks, you have dead silence at night. The kind of silence that you welcome. The kind that lulls you to deep, blissful, rewarding sleep. While it lasts. Because unlike the noise that eventually wakes you up in the heart of the city, in the country, you are awakened by the sound of birds. Now, if you haven’t heard them, you’re probably thinking, “But birds sound so beautiful in the morning.” Uh, no they don’t. Not when they start singing before the sun comes up. Hours before the sun comes up. When you are trying to sleep. Think of the sounds of fingernails on chalkboard. That’s what birds chirping before the break of dawn sounds like when you’re trying to sleep. It makes me wish they were all in shooting range of an air rifle. So I could pick them all off, one by one. Then I could get back to sleep. Instead visualizing myself flipping all of those birds the bird.
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