Rainstorm moving through Ashfield, MA for the last two days. Wild, primitive clouds, dynamically shifting from black to white and all colors in between. Overflowing our valley. Margaret and I stood on the back porch watching the dancing chaos. A tiny bird landed beneath the bottom rung of our split rail fence, standing there, hopping in circles, looking for some space between the falling drops. Water splashing all over the wooden boards and we, listening for the sacred rhythm, like a language we might someday learn. Margaret said quietly, This reminds me of reading a piece of music. Each drop is a note. And so I went to my digital equipment to see if I could create what Margaret saw. I hope you enjoy the music that falls between the spaces of what humans can know.
Posted on: Tue, 29 Jul 2014 13:43:39 +0000
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