My tai chi classes have been cancelled so I am now practising in the garden and I can’t get over how peaceful it is. Normally, the planes are zooming endlessly overhead and there is a constant drone of traffic noise from the nearby A4. I’d become so accustomed to this background noise that I barely noticed it, or at the very least accepted it as part of life in the 21st century. But now it feels like we’ve been whisked back to another, more peaceful time.
Standing in the garden now, I feel like I’ve been swept back to my 1960s childhood. In a good way though – no semolina pudding or knitted swimsuits. Then, few people had cars and no-one I knew had ever been on a plane. They were rare and exotic sights. The outdoor sounds I remember from those days are mostly people – children playing and adults chatting. And the occasional lawn mower, although my father defiantly used a hand-push model. The soundscape wasn’t dominated by engines and machines the way it is now. At least, that’s how it was until recently.
During my half hour in the garden I barely heard a car or a plane. I did hear children playing and people talking, but what I heard more than anything was birdsong. I don’t know if they’d just been drowned out before by the overpowering noise or if they’re starting to reclaim their territory now that people are withdrawing. If so, it doesn’t take long, judging by all those stories of clear blue canals in Venice, with birds, fish and plant life flourishing. Although I gather that the dolphin and swan sightings are pure fabrications.
And what about Chernobyl? Although the 1,000 square mile exclusion zone is expected to remain unsafe for people for 20,000 years or longer, nature is rapidly reclaiming the area for itself. Apparently it’s flourishing without the inconvenient and disruptive presence of people. Plant life recovered within 3 years and now, 35 years later, the area is rich in wildlife including bears, elk, wild boar, beavers, bison, foxes – the list goes on and includes a number of rare species. I understand that small animals and birds took longer to return than larger mammals, but now there is a healthy bird population too.
I find all this very encouraging. We can do our worst, but nature is having none of it. It’ll win in the end. As I wave my arms around in the garden (in a mindful way of course), enjoy the sun on my face and listen to the birds, it’s hard not to feel hopeful.
Sheridan, that is such a heartwarming post and I entirely agree. We do have to be hopeful.
How helpful to have a cheery voice when all about the media is doom and gloom. I absolutely agree about the birdsong – it is at its deafening best in the still small voice of early-morning-quiet in these isolation times.