Things I’ve Heard From Our Balcony


ligSomeone playing a trumpet! For a few brief and wonderful moments, I actually thought I was in Berlin listening to our regular musical visitors. Then the very un-Berlinish crosswalk signal down the street began beeping and I remembered that we’re now back in the US where we rarely hear music on the street. It’s likely that the unseen trumpet player is a busker down in front of the Metro station a few blocks away, but that doesn’t really matter to me. I’m okay with letting a little musical mystery back into my life…

A rather angry squirrel barking at some unseen threat.

Overgrown tree branches scraping against the window of an apartment in the building across the street.

An extended set of really, REALLY loud male sneezes.

The local high school’s marching band practicing its halftime show out on the football field a few blocks away.

A spirited, high-volume rendition of the Rocky theme by a twenty-something guy running down the block.

“You touched my shoe!” -An indignant young boy to his friend as they walked home from school.

A hawk, really rather upset judging from the length and volume of its shrieking cries.

The echoing “deep-doop deep-doop deep-doop” of the audible crosswalk signal from a major intersection a few blocks away.

“If she pulls away, you pick her up. We need to establish some guidelines.” -A young woman talking to her walking companion, I believe about their dog.

The crashing of construction refuse down a trash chute.

The cawing of crows. Or ravens.

“Ahhhh, I’ve got a date! AhhBAH!” (or some other similar-sounding expression of what seemed to be triumph, accompanied as it was by a fist pump into the air.) -A casually-dressed young guy in a silver BMW convertible as he pulled away from the curb after dropping off his friend at 2:30 pm on a Monday afternoon.

A variety of motorized vehicles driving over a nearby manhole cover.

Sirens. So many sirens.

The grr-grr-RUMBLE of a UPS truck engine starting up.

A twenty-something guy in big, neon-orange (I’m talking, REALLY orange) headphones singing (yelling, almost) along to whatever he was listening to. I couldn’t make out the song, but from how enthusiastically he was working his hands as he walked, he was clearly enjoying it.

An owl, early one morning but not again since.

Crickets. Cicadas, too.

No churchbells yet, but that doesn’t stop me hoping.