I was outside late at night, no sounds of cars or people. In the distance I can sometimes hear the sound of snow plows against pavement. It is very windy but I’m sheltered by a grove of giant pine, maple, and oak trees. The lake is about 150 meters away but I can’t see it from this vantage point. I became mesmerized by the sound of the wind against the trees. Wave upon wave of sound as the wind moves through the oak closer to the lake and the pine near me. I can now tell the difference between the two sounds. Trees with needles and trees without leaves in winter.
What must the wind sound like in Iceland? Trees are more rare there and if any are as tall as the trees I’m standing near they must be as old as the original Vikings. But the sound itself must be very different. It is like music. Same band, different song.
An old Icelandic joke that could also apply to most North American suburbs that are built on treeless fields that once grew food goes something like this:
What do you do if you’re lost in an Icelandic forest (or N.A. suburb)?
You stand up!
