Music in the Garden

Recently, many of us have been given time to observe:

where does the sun rise; where do the shadows fall?

We were amazed by the vivid sound of early spring.

I have been considering my habitat, in suburban Exeter.

I have been sitting still and listening.

Or gardening, and listening.

This is what I hear.

Please listen to these music videos through headphones or good stereo speakers.

Picking raspberries, 22nd June 2020

Newts (evening), Tuesday 23rd June. I share my habitat with a lot of newts. They breed in a soakaway that I have recently uncovered. After some spring rains I added some oxygenating plants and the soakaway became clear and the newts were revealed. This is me, in my habitat, with the newts, listening.

Picking loganberries, Thursday 25th June

Wasp and garden shed, Tuesday 21st July

Weeding carrots, 14th July 2020

Midnight to Midnight, 24th June 2020. On 24th June this year I recorded and videoed the first two minutes of each hour from midnight to midnight in my garden. I wonder whether anyone can spare 50 minutes to listen to it? If you do, please use headphones: the recordings were made on binaural microphones placed either side of my head, so what is recorded is what I actually heard. This is me, in my habitat, listening to it. What do you hear? Does it sound similar or different to your habitat? As a guide to volume level, you might be able to hear a duet between my breathing (very very slight) and something doing slowly repeating scraping/scratching nearby between minute 2 and minute 3. If you’re wondering what o’clock you’re hearing, divide the ‘time elapsed’ minute by two. I’m going to make a version of this with only 1 minute out of every hour, for those pressed for time, but I like the pace of this one. Wouldn’t want to rush.

Bees on Lavender, 21st July 2020

‘Sunflower’ from August 2020. This is a coy sunflower. Please keep her company for a few minutes, listening with me (through headphones).
Bees feasting on this cardoon flower, neighbour on one side building an extension, neighbour on other side calling her cat. A light breeze stirring leaves above. Thick traffic infilling. Listen through headphones.
Winter Solstice, 2020. I kept vigil in my suburban garden from midnight to midnight, listening through the dark, the light, and the dark again. It was quite a wet day. It was quite an ordinary day, this shortest day. You can hear the cycle of the city’s life continuing through the turning of the year. Listen through headphones, ideally.