JOY ALONG THE WAY: QUIET TIME IS PEACEFUL

It is getting quieter. No birds sing in the dawn. The crickets are hushing, one by one. Lawnmowers have been put to winter rest. Neighbor Dick's saw can be heard from time to time as he prepares his winter woodpiles. It is not harsh because it speaks of a fireplace burning brightly and drifting woodsmoke that is pleasing to my nose.

There is something comforting about the quiet. The great rush of growing and harvesting is over. It is time to get in sync with nature. Stand down. Rest. Discover your own form of hibernation.

The little indoor sounds now come more readily to our attention. I hear the comforting purr of the furnace, the muted hum of the refrigerator, reminders of food and warmth.

After dark I can hear the cardinal going to roost under the metal awning. There is only a narrow, rather sharp-edged ledge for the cardinal to find a foothold. Thus it makes a wee bit of noise before it gets settled for the night. I'm going to try to be of some help this winter. I'm going to lay a roosting pole on the ledges, across an inside corner. It will be the hypotenuse of a triangle. Haven't decided yet how I'll anchor it. But I'll figure that out. I might attach a gummed label atop the awning that says, "Hypotenuse Condominium of Richmondena Cardinalis." If noticed by back-door visitors it will spark instantaneous conversation, maybe. I hope the cardinal figures out I'm trying to be helpful and doesn't become wary and scared of my intrusion into its wintertime night quarters.

When I go to bed I listen for a while for a mouse. Usually in November one finds its way to a place between the brick walls. I don't know how it gets there and don't care as long as it stays out of the main quarters. The little scratching noise it makes before settling down is companionable. Sometimes I knock on the wall to let it know I'm home, too.

There is a new game out this holiday season, Maniac Mouse. I don't know how it works. Don't care. I don't want a mad mouse but one who knows when and where to come in out of the cold.

In keeping with the descending quietness, I've cleaned and rearranged the lower kitchen cabinets so that when I open the door and reach for a pan, six more won't come clattering out.

Oiled the door hinges, too, on all the doors, and anchored a TV cable that has been flapping against the window pane for some time but whose noise was somewhat lost in the summertime sounds.

One thing I don't try to make quiet is the gurgling downspout and the whistling window. They are longtime wrinkles that give the house character. They, too, are comforting sounds. The gurgling downspout keeps me grateful for being in out of the rain; the whistling window, which tells of a cold wind blowing, makes me conscious of how cozy it is inside.

Then there is the ongoing Quiet Time after supper still being observed. In earlier days the only sounds heard during this time was the crackle of logs in the fireplace, simmer of teakettle on the back of the range, shuffle of papers and pages. Now it may be only turning of pages in some book. Some book wherein Charles Cotton is glorifying an evening at home. "How calm and quiet a delight it is, alone, to read and meditate and write, by none offended and offending none. To walk, ride, sit or sleep at one's own ease, and, pleasing a man's self, none other to displease.

REJOICE!

~Jean Bell Mosley is an author and longtime columnist for the Southeast Missourian.