Winter is the kingdom of silence; summer is the busy and apparently joyful fair of noises.
Winter might have the voice of freezing northern wind, but the lack of leaves condemn it to a lower tone.
Summer enhances the noises, with its bursting energy of life in full blossom, as if all had to be given as much as it’s possible, in a hurry, before the twilight of late autumn, the prelude of winter long peaceful sleep.
The air vibrates with cries, not necessarily all unpleasant; I’m not speaking of cars, crowds of tourists laughing loudly at the table of sidewalk cafés, I’m speaking of birds, of boats sirens, thunderstorms...All these sounds have their own appealing lively nearly violent energy.
Like always I tend to roam about, this is the risk one runs when one speaks to oneself.
Let’s come back to the point, this pictures which suggested me another useless reflection.
It shows just a quite common public bench in a small Swiss village, a bench which looks idyllic at the first sight, all wrapped up into a soft blanket of purple and violet little flowers.
The noise here is like a signal of danger...
We approach and we hear clearly a deep buzzing sound, nearly troubling, always louder.
Hundreds, maybe thousands of very busy bees make the colourful bush vibrate with their endless frantic work from flower to flowers and then who knows where...
They are the unconscious guardian of the isolated bench, which remains alone.