August 2005

August, 2005
Central Indiana

The contrast between Oregon and Indiana is most dramatic in summer. The sun’s energy shines down in both locales, but there the similarity ends. Willamette Valley drought is replaced by Wabash Valley steam. The dry air of the West sucks the moisture from plants, ground, and skin. The moisture-soaked air of the Midwest envelops and permeates all.

Nightfall brings further contrasts, not in temperature (the modern luxury of air conditioning converts a humid Indiana inside into a dry Oregon outside), but in sound. In Indiana, the roar of night creatures replaces the relative quiet of an Oregon summer’s eve. Whether you find yourself on a farm or in the suburbs, crickets and cicadas, frogs and lacewings croon their love songs throughout the night.

As a transplanted Midwesterner, I find the nighttime chorus most surprising. From my childhood, I remember the heat and humidity, the electricity (literally!) of thunderstorms, and the twinkle of fireflies, but I have forgotten the drone of night. It is constant and oddly reassuring. From the perspective of these creature, at the level of their neighborhood, the world must appear at peace. The conditions for seeking mates and carrying on with life have been met. To them, all signs say that the future is worth striving for. To this listening former Hoosier, this evidence of peace is no small gift of comfort.

with an eye on nature,
Wally