 |
| Campsies from Lime Craig |
Well, I know that visitors are a bit bored with more scenes in the hills so I thought I would provide a soundtrack as well. It was another alpine-like morning and pre-porridge found me heading up the woods to the hills again. The hard night's frost had created sparkling hard and crispy snow and the still air created a sound chamber of acoustic excellence. Even the gentle gurgling of the not-quite frozen water in the burns had a joyous tingle. The forest canopy was a natural aviary for the birdsong which ranged from knock-knock-knocking of a woodpecker to the twitterings of dozens of small birds. I disturbed a jay and the flash of colour was accompanied by the whirring beat of its wings.
And providing the metronome for all of this was the rhythmic crunching of snow. It was like trampling on kettle chips. Listen below.
do you know what it sounds like because of all the ones you drop on the kitchen floor when you are gourmandising.
ReplyDeleteperhaps I should have called it chomping on kettle chips, now where did I hide them...
ReplyDelete