Rick and I knew when we purchased our home that we were in the flight path for the local airport. It’s a small airport and less than a dozen flights a day, not all of which fly overhead. Aviation is in my husband’s blood. He ran his own aviation business for twenty-five years before retiring. So, we were delighted to be in the flight path. We enjoy watching small private planes as well as jets fly overhead.
We didn’t expect the added blessing of being in the flight path to the Laguna de Santa Rosa. Every morning, we hear the honking of geese heading west. One-by-one, long-legged white egrets head across the sky. Pairs of ducks flap frantically, as though late for work and wanting to slip into quiet waters before their tardiness is noticed.
After a long hard day “at the office”, the birds head home in the evening. There they go! Heading east, the geese behind the leader honking encouragement. The egrets with legs extended winging across the evening sky, and the ducks zooming past, late again, tucking themselves into small waterways in our neighborhood. While out for a walk, I saw a pair sitting on the railing above a murky stream. They looked like they were discussing their day searching for food, avoiding predators, holding their place in the Laguna. Quack, quack, quack. Huddling close, they faced the sunset, weary after a long day at the “office”.
It occurred to me that Rick and I often plant ourselves by thoroughfares. We started our married life in the eye of three Southern California freeways; later, an apartment backed up to the Hollywood Freeway. We had a home near the rumble of mudslide down the side street from the San Gabriel Mountains. We spent twelve years in a home backed up to Highway 101.
Ah, the lull of “surf sounds” day and night. And now the sounds of wildlife overhead mingling with the winged beasts carrying passengers to and fro.
Life in motion. It’s grand.