To hear the Blackbird, Cuckoo, Thrush,
Or any bird in song;
And common leaves that hum all day
Without a throat or tongue.

And when Time strikes the hour for sleep,
Back in my room alone,
My heart has many a sweet bird's song --
And one that's all my own.

When on a Summer's Morn by William Henry Davies

Posted this last night... ? Not sure where it went, but here it is again.

REALLY enjoyed the poem; especially the line,

---'And common leaves that hum all day
Without a throat or tongue'.

That's the personna the garden takes on in late summer!
It hums, it parties at night,
it does exactly as it pleases
and it sticks its tongue out at me!

You took me back, over to a time in Deerfield 16 years ago; millions of Cicadas were buzzing and buzzing so loudly, like a sci-fi movie.

All I could do was stretch my arms out from my sides and turn around and around and around---the buzzing made me dizzy, more than the turning and turning.

It was like nothing I'd ever heard and it was \
overwhelming and a little frightening.
You couldn't get the 'SurroundSound'
unless you spun slowly around and around and around.

(You know, I've 'felt' an energy in the garden before, ---it was coming up through the plants, the tree roots, the very dirt----had to be hot out)