I miss the birdsong in the mornings now.
I wake up in the dark cold; The fire is out. I move softly in the kitchen, thick wool socks gliding on linoleum. The dog listens at the top of the stairs for the sound of dry food hitting metal dish.
The coffee smells good, warms me. I choose the most beautiful white birch log because the bark catches fire best.
Outside the garden is covered in a light frost. I hear a flock of geese, high overhead, telegraphing their departure in staccato voices.
Bruce called tonight from Paris at his conference to say good-night and said that, since his arrival at EuroDisney, he had noticed the sound of birds singing wherever he went — on the path to the conference center, on the way to dinner. In November. Tonight, he realized that 1) it was night-time and the birds were still singing and 2) he never actually saw any birds, just heard them singing. That was when he realized that there were tiny speakers in every tree, playing a loop of birdsong.
So there you go! If you go to EuroDisney, you can hear birds singing year ’round.