The first time I heard the sound I couldn’t figure out what it was. Then it became familiar and each time I heard it made me stop and notice like when the Canada Geese start flying over the house, bringing either winter or summer.
This is a winter sound and it always makes me smile. It’s one of those small delights of knowing. Knowing the sounds in my home. An acknowledgement of warmth and the replenishment of moisture and the scent of cinnamon in the air.
The banged up pot came with us from Old Bedlam Farm. Jon found it buried in the barnyard. We put it on top of the wood stove to replace the moister in the air that burning woods depletes. I add some cinnamon or cloves to make the whole house smell warm.
If the rounded bottom of the pot didn’t wasn’t so banged up, it wouldn’t topple off balance the way it does when the water evaporates. It wouldn’t make the sound that has come to mean a warm home in the cold winter.
I’ve been wanting to get a video of the pot making it’s sound for years, since I first heard it. This morning, when I saw the water was low, I cranked up the stove and started filming with my iphone. It took some patience and editing, but I finally got it.
That made me smile. It’s much like at our house, recognizing that the banging sound is the rabbits eating heartily from their hey manger. As they pull the hay, the manger lifts and then drops back against the wall. That sound means they’re doing something that keeps them healthy, so instead of being annoying (I have a thing against repetitive sounds), it’s reassuring.
That’s just it Tricia. We know those sounds so well. And even know that sometimes there’s something wrong if we don’t hear those familiar sounds.