A Cricket Cacophony

Summary

The text describes the author's experience with the rejuvenating and exhilarating effects of thunderstorms, contrasting the silence during the storm with the cacophony of cricket sounds that follow.

Abstract

The author reflects on the captivating allure of thunderstorms, noting the peculiar absence of cricket sounds during the storm and the subsequent surge of cricket music once the rain ceases. This phenomenon is likened to a natural symphony that is often missed due to modern reliance on air conditioning and electronic devices. The essay explores the sensory experiences associated with storms, including the energy, smell, and temperature changes, and ponders the human connection to these natural events, suggesting that the natural world's music is a cleansing and serene soundtrack to life.

Opinions

The author finds thunderstorms to be profoundly exhilarating, akin to multiple orgasms.
The contrast between the silence of crickets during a storm and their loud chorus afterward is highlighted as a notable experience.
The author expresses a sense of rejuvenation after a thunderstorm, despite not partaking in the "singing" like crickets do.
There is a musing about the absence of birdsong during a storm, hinting at a natural shift in the "music responsibilities" from birds to crickets and toads.
The text suggests that by closing windows to use air conditioning, people miss out on the natural music of the environment.
The author implies that the use of CDs, stereos, and headphones is an attempt to compensate for the silence created by closed

Opening the windows after a thunderstorm

What is it about a thunderstorm that makes you want to stop whatever you are doing and go to a window or out onto the porch and just stand there and watch the storm?

Is it the energy? The electricity crackling in the air? The disruption of regular programming? The smell? The drop in temperature? The change in air pressure? The forcefulness of life impinging on your reality?

Since three o’clock this afternoon we have had three thunderstorms so far today and a fourth is bearing down on us here on the plains. I find thunderstorms profoundly exhilarating. Three successive thunderstorms are almost like multiple orgasms.

All that water somehow manages to ignite my fire. I know that does not make sense but it does.

Have you ever noticed how between successive thunderstorms the crickets will come out en masse and scream their hind legs off? Cricket music never seems to be as loud as just after a thunderstorm. This seems so true but is it really just the contrast between cricket music and cricket silence that seems to heighten the sound? Have you ever noticed that during a thunderstorm the one sound you absolutely will not hear is crickets?

And where do crickets go when rain is falling in bucket-loads? Is the intensity of their music building up as they hide in their secret hiding places and is it then let loose in an ear-shattering cacophony once the rain stops?

And what about humans? What happens to us when the rain stops?

I know that I always feel rejuvenated after a thunderstorm. But I don’t sing. Could that be my problem? I feel good but I don’t sing? I’m sitting at my desk right now and I’m gently rubbing my legs together (mostly to keep the blood circulating) but there is no resulting music — at least not that I can hear.

And where the hell are all the birds? There is absolutely no birdsong happening right now. Is there a certain time of day when the birds hand over the music responsibilities to the crickets and toads? Do the animals take shifts in providing the music of life?

And now the dog in the yard across the street is barking. What is he all excited about?

Yesterday it was hot and when I came home from work I booted up the old laptop and put on my headphones. It was either that or listen to the drone of the air conditioner. Today, with all the thunderstorms it is actually cool. My air conditioner is not on, in fact it has not been on all day (for the first time since May). All my windows are wide open.

We close our windows in the summer to allow our air conditioners to cool our homes. But at what cost? We are missing out on so much music! Is that why we need CDs and stereos and headphones? To drown out the silence created by closed windows? To drown out the droning sound of the air conditioner (which we never notice until we turn it off)?

The trees are all singing now. Of course trees don’t actually sing. They are merely the instruments that the wind plays to make music.

The cricket symphony is now in diminuendo. It is fading quickly. That is why I know that it is about to start raining again. The crickets are all scurrying away to their secret hiding places. Soon the music I will be hearing is the tap, tap, tap of raindrops on the windows and the bellowing tympani of thunder.

Being on the inside of my windows I will be dry but inside my heart I will be deluged and cleansed. And soon my laptop will be turned off. My windows will still be open. The storm will have passed and as I turn off the lights and sink into my pillow I will once again be serenaded by the crickets. It truly is the best music to fall asleep to.

A Cricket Cacophony

Opening the windows after a thunderstorm

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