The Guardsman Letters No.11

Silence; is in fact a pale glowing Blue.

Sunday January 28th, 2018 - 4:05am

It finally dawned on me tonight that its quiet. Sure it’s always ‘quiet’ in terms of activity out here that needs observing; but a True quiet noticeably settled here tonight. Perhaps it was the warmth.

In the early parts of the shift I didn’t even really need my coat for the checks of the site; and I think that helped me really take my time on them. Covering all the areas that needed checking was done all the same as any other night; but tonight there was a certain slow saunter to my steps. In part to the icy surfaces the warm day had created, but also because I didn’t have any dire need to rush back to the heated trailer.

The ability to really take it all in was available, and comfortable. As Tom Waits had always described a ‘big buttery biscuit of a yellow cue ball moon’ hung overhead; lighting up the surroundings just enough that I didn’t need the flash when away from the lights of the office. It gave the snow covered surroundings that pale glow; and backlit all the trees reaching with their bare arms skywards.

At around 1:45 I listened to the train roll towards Perth off in the distance, its immense weight carrying its sound across the wide open river and eventually to me. Some time after that in the quiet, a bubbler pump agitated the water down in the ‘Cave’ and echoed up at me. It reminded me of one of those meditation ponds, the steady trickling of water; with a touch of ‘drip-drip’ off the wet walls below.

I’ve spent the last hour nestled in unusual comfort on a pile of scaffolding and pipe; sipping at a coffee and smoking. That yellowed moon slowly gliding overhead and descending into the trees. While there was a small chill beginning to creep up from the ground it was still warm enough to be bearable; especially when the songs started.

Far to the South down river, a coyote laughed in the night. One of its kin howled much closer. The back and forth, call-and-repeat woodland Blues bounced its way up the canal and through the trees around me. Both voices closer ; then the song stops.

In the ‘Cave’ the trickling water continued, then the off-beat drips. Behind me the metal of the trailer creaked in the cold. Some branches clacked together and trees groaned in a sudden breeze.

In the light of the moon; across the canal near the Lockmasters darkened and empty house; a shadowed form loped past. Another figure stepped silently from the tree line. A quick sharp Yip, a reply; then they were both gone back into the trees. Shortly after that, the woods sounded with cracking branches, and the song started again… crashing in the woods now. Now it was a hunting song.

I took another walk around the site; with nothing but the pale light of the moon and the quiet trickle of water then returned to the trailer.

I hope they never fix that damn pump!