The forecast was for frost. Arising early I look out of the window to see a glitter on the garden, and so decide to head off in search of a frozen dawn scene.
No hurry; plenty of time. As I plod along I feel the deep slow beat of a shaman’s drum conjured from my boots clomping down on the frozen ground.
Lately I’ve been experimenting with the autoharp I was recently gifted. The scene makes me think of slow, Bagpuss-esque rising scales with heavy reverb. As I turn from west to north and climb the hill, the rhythm and melody combine as I look over my shoulder to see the sun poke its head above the horizon.
Descending into the woods I am greeted by a soundscape of birdsong. Not the cacophony that will be around in a few weeks, but certainly a lot louder than a couple of weeks ago. I decide to loop back through the woods to the top of Bretch Hill to try and catch more of it.
There’s something deeply melodic about the dawn chorus; something that I think humans tens of thousands of years ago, with their elaborate capacity for vocalisation, probably took as the inspiration for early song and music. Blackbirds, robins, pigeon, sparrow, and blue and great tits all combine to create an ethereal soundtrack to complement the misty dawn (this recording was made using the camera’s condenser microphone, so it doesn’t really do justice the depth of the melodic scene).
Arriving at the top of Bretch Hill I look out to the west, the risen sun now highlighting the hills of The Irondowns. In my head, all the inspirations of the walk combine into a soundtrack which beautifully fits the scene... time to go home and make something with those ideas!