Telling Time by Tweets
I have no need for a cell phone anymore, apparently. I can tell time by tweets and squeaks. Meals and weather are the telltale signs of the clock here and I think I've got it down now. It goes something like this:
6:30am: First bird chirps, that singular soul lightly twitter painting the darkened blue sky
7:00am: Cacophony morning symphonies have begun, I suspect the pīwakawakas mostly -- those little gossiping chit chatters
8:00am: High pitched wail of the teapot letting me know to finish up breakfast
8:30am: Squeak of the sliding glass door as other WWOOFers arrive for morning duties
9:00am: Bread maker beeps as the first loaf of the day starts to churn
10:20am: Machine gun squeak successions of the barn door rolling up when lifted to return tools to their shelter before morning tea (see Morning Tea w/ Feijoas Please)
11:30am: Neighbor dogs' whimper and bark at me balanced precariously in the trees (the snip of a branch when pruning is about on par with popping bubble wrap i.e. addictive)
12:30pm: The Tui bird is now boasting its delightful dual voice box call
12:50pm: Water pipes squeak as hands are washed in the garage before coming in for lunch. This can be swapped for the satisfying sound of stepping on a full box of the day's collected plastic milk jugs that once protected newly planted trees from ravenous rabbits (the shattering crunch is like the first break of thin ice over a sidewalk puddle -- glorious!)
2:00pm: Final tinkering of plates as dishes are put away
3-5pm: Birds belt out the evening's finale conversation
6:00pm: Momentary chirps as the flittering stragglers find a sunset resting place
7:00pm: Only the pop of a crackling fire in the wood stove
8:00pm: Floorboard creaks upstairs as my host settles in for the night
And that, my friends, is telling time by tweets without a cell phone. Welcome to a world where Internet is an hour walk away, so time and entertainment slow down. Way down. But laying out in a dew misted field and listening to the birds dissipate when the Crux begins to make its star studded sky appearance ain't all bad. Not bad at all.
