This list is short, because I have not yet experienced a full New England Spring or Winter, but so far. . . . .
The hierarchy of amazing New England sounds.
6. The slurp of coffee while looking out the window at cars turning down the lane and hearing. . . nothing. Living in a hundred year old brick house means that I am insulated from everything unless I throw open the sash to hear it on purpose.
5. The crackling steam of the radiators–a gurgling promise of cozy toes and one less layer.
4. A summer evening run the cacophony of clicking beetles, singing crickets and the halting sounds of children practicing music next to an open window. With very little air conditioning and even less TV watching, the summer sounds of houses here is like a time warp to the 1950s.
3. The crunch of leaves for every step of your journey. They alternate between a thin layer of beautiful leaf parquet on the path to shin deep drifts of crisp, clean, woodsy heaven. How Mark Twain was able to write anything save sonnets about the beauty of a Connecticut fall baffles me.
2. The sound of raindrops falling on autumn leaves. As if the rain is jealous of feet, it falls from the sky with a spirited joy, bouncing into trees and the reds, yellows and oranges of the season with elementary school glee. The rain wants galoshes. I can tell.
1. The sound at the very moment when rain turns to snow. If you are quiet, you can hear it. It’s the most amazing little bickering match with the rain holding on and the snow powering through. There are a few tense moments where the snow might lose, but then a little white pompadour shows up on a stone in the yard and you know that something magical is about to happen.