Years ago, when our first dog passed away, we of course missed him in every way, but one thing I did not expect was how much I would miss the click of his nails on the wood floors. The whole house felt empty without that sound.
I think of this now, with our current dog. I appreciate his clicks.
For me it's the Tuesday noon siren in San Francisco. These ran until late 2019 (just before the pandemic, ironically) and then perchance were put on hold — first for refurbishing, and then due to municipal budget priority issues. In the past week or so, news suggested funding may have been found to complete the refurbishing and get them going again. Fortunately I made a recording around 10 years ago, and there are other recordings out there:
Driving from New Hampshire to Vermont on back roads the other day I passed through a former mill town -- and lots of rusted empty train cars parallel to the road. When I got to the train crossing I thought of the sold style steam engine train whistle. I wondered how long it will be until it is gone.
We’ve lived in a Hispanic neighborhood for 42years. When we first moved here the neighbor’s parties would vibrate our house. Over the years the parties got more subdued. I miss that “let’s Get Loud” vibe from my neighbors. Rock the house, guys.
I have two large lemon trees providing a sight break between my house and my neighbor's. The trees are the house for a number of small birds who awaken about dawn, leave at 7ish AM and return in the afternoon to settle for the night. They are very loud and I miss them when they are not home.
The one sound above all that I would miss if it went away (besides the voices of my loved ones) is birdsong. When I moved to my current apartment, the first thing I noticed the first morning I woke up there was the twittering of birds in the trees outside my window. My last place was on noisy Main Street where the constant sound all day and all night was traffic. Suddenly, one block away, the traffic was replaced by birds. Magic! I never take this for granted.
When I first moved to Southeast Texas near the Gulf Coast in 2003, nightfall was accompanied by sounds I associated with tree frogs, lots of them. I don't remember when their chorus died. A single cricket appeared in my city dwelling many years ago; I considered his brief presence good luck -- I hope cricket songs still prevail in country nights. The disappearance of such sounds is ominous to me.
I miss the sound of my father's voice. The strange thing is, I can't pull it up in my memory. I have aphantasia which effects pretty much all of my senses. If I heard his voice, I may know it, but he's been gone for 33 years. One of my last memories of him was the weekend before he passed away. We went out of dinner and sat chatting about his retirement and he was guessing what his company would give him as a gift. A friend of his received a new set of golf clubs and he thought he would get them too. I knew that they were going to give him a golf cart for my parents to drive around in in Arizona.
I love the sound of frog calls. I participate in a Frog Calling Survey and each spring and summer I head out at night with a friend or two and listen for frogs at our forest preserve. I am always so overjoyed when I hear all the calls. This year was a little sad as the drought meant less frog calls which means less mating, which means fewer tadpoles. The project started because frog species were disappearing from areas and they realized they should track their existence and see how populations are doing.
Like others here, I miss sounds made by the passing of my dogs during the last 12 months. Their sounds as they slept, dreaming of who knows what, their nails on our timber floor, their barks, all of their noise. Whilst I still sometimes ache for their sounds, they are now replaced with sounds of two puppies, bringing their own sounds to my life
Toddler chatter. The learning of a language is incredibly creative. I love conversations with very small children. I will definitely miss those sweet moments of language development when my grandkids all are past that learning stage.
My late husband used to play a blues riff on his guitar and it would drive me nuts-- especially when we were watching TV or chatting away about our day. But, damn, now I really miss it and wish I'd recorded it.
And the sound of the wind in the poplar and pine trees at my parents rustic cabin. Nothing says "up North" in Minnesota like that sound.
I remember a couple of sounds from when I was a kid that I haven't heard since, but often think about. Just about the time I woke up for school (7am) the morning whistle from a local factory would go off signaling the start time of the work day. For some reason I always felt comforted by it, (probably not the factory workers though!). The other sound was the weird ramming clang of the drop forge. At the time I had no idea what it was and only learned years later. The drop forge plant was probably a mile or more away but the sound traveled. I still think about it.
My husband wakes up every morning whistling or humming - and he has a remarkable repertoire... everything from classical to jazz to rock to tv jingles. It's always a surprising delight. I treasure it now and hope to hear it for many more years.
Sparrows are disappearing very fast… they used to be a very common Bird in cities but their number have dropped by 75% between 2003 and 2016 in paris…
What makes me sad also is the « shifting baseline » : children born nowadays will perceive as normal Not to hear to sparrow’s chirp (just like it’s normal for me to drive for 8 hours without having to stop to clean the windshield because there are not as many insects nowadays as when my parents were kids)
So many others have mentioned bird calls, but there is one bird that used to be as consistent as sunrise back home in Caracas, Venezuela. It's called the great kiskadee in English (it's found in southern Texas as well) and we call it "cristofué". Both names come from the distinct call it makes, and it almost always calls early in the morning. Now that I've emigrated to Florida, I appreciate the mockingbirds and the blue jays and even the crows and occasional cardinal, but nothing says home like my "cristofué". I miss them as much as I miss my parents back home.
We moved into a house last summer that is visited by swifts from May - August and when they leave everything sounds far too quiet. I miss their screams so much in the weeks after they depart and I'm sure I will throughout the winter too!
If someone hasn't already posted this, the site linked above is fascinating to listen to. That clip is a longer explanation of the site itself, but just go to aporee.org and start listening.
El sonido diario de mi vida es sobre todo Gina, mi perrita de 11 años, una bichón maltes preciosa, adorable, entrañable, es mi amor, mi compañera de vida. Un sonido que extraño?, uff que difícil, me cuesta recordar, quizá escuchar a mi madre preparando chocolate los domingos en casa, el sonido del vinilo cuándo mi hermano ponía los discos de supertramp, el sonido y aroma que extraño, sí, ese puede ser uno de tantos momentos.
Probablemente el sonido que extrañaré serán los gruñidos de Gina, los momentos con ella. ya tiene 11 años, eso me apena, me pongo triste. Gracias por tan bonito post, me hizo recordar muchas cosas bonitas que ya no están en mi vida. 💙
Missing Sounds
Years ago, when our first dog passed away, we of course missed him in every way, but one thing I did not expect was how much I would miss the click of his nails on the wood floors. The whole house felt empty without that sound.
I think of this now, with our current dog. I appreciate his clicks.
Thought the very same thing about my own dog...and the sound of her clicking nails. Always present...always underfoot.
I am slowly losing my hearing and I can't hear a lot of bird calls... I really miss that.
I love foghorns and miss them when they are replaced. 🌫️
For me it's the Tuesday noon siren in San Francisco. These ran until late 2019 (just before the pandemic, ironically) and then perchance were put on hold — first for refurbishing, and then due to municipal budget priority issues. In the past week or so, news suggested funding may have been found to complete the refurbishing and get them going again. Fortunately I made a recording around 10 years ago, and there are other recordings out there:
https://soundcloud.com/disquiet/siren-san-francisco-tuesday
The sound of my cat's meows. She's 12 now and doing well but she'll get old and sick and eventually be gone...
Driving from New Hampshire to Vermont on back roads the other day I passed through a former mill town -- and lots of rusted empty train cars parallel to the road. When I got to the train crossing I thought of the sold style steam engine train whistle. I wondered how long it will be until it is gone.
We’ve lived in a Hispanic neighborhood for 42years. When we first moved here the neighbor’s parties would vibrate our house. Over the years the parties got more subdued. I miss that “let’s Get Loud” vibe from my neighbors. Rock the house, guys.
I have two large lemon trees providing a sight break between my house and my neighbor's. The trees are the house for a number of small birds who awaken about dawn, leave at 7ish AM and return in the afternoon to settle for the night. They are very loud and I miss them when they are not home.
In my little NYC apartment, I always loved the clanking and banging of the radiators coming on in the early morning.
The one sound above all that I would miss if it went away (besides the voices of my loved ones) is birdsong. When I moved to my current apartment, the first thing I noticed the first morning I woke up there was the twittering of birds in the trees outside my window. My last place was on noisy Main Street where the constant sound all day and all night was traffic. Suddenly, one block away, the traffic was replaced by birds. Magic! I never take this for granted.
When I first moved to Southeast Texas near the Gulf Coast in 2003, nightfall was accompanied by sounds I associated with tree frogs, lots of them. I don't remember when their chorus died. A single cricket appeared in my city dwelling many years ago; I considered his brief presence good luck -- I hope cricket songs still prevail in country nights. The disappearance of such sounds is ominous to me.
I miss the sound of my father's voice. The strange thing is, I can't pull it up in my memory. I have aphantasia which effects pretty much all of my senses. If I heard his voice, I may know it, but he's been gone for 33 years. One of my last memories of him was the weekend before he passed away. We went out of dinner and sat chatting about his retirement and he was guessing what his company would give him as a gift. A friend of his received a new set of golf clubs and he thought he would get them too. I knew that they were going to give him a golf cart for my parents to drive around in in Arizona.
I love the sound of frog calls. I participate in a Frog Calling Survey and each spring and summer I head out at night with a friend or two and listen for frogs at our forest preserve. I am always so overjoyed when I hear all the calls. This year was a little sad as the drought meant less frog calls which means less mating, which means fewer tadpoles. The project started because frog species were disappearing from areas and they realized they should track their existence and see how populations are doing.
Like others here, I miss sounds made by the passing of my dogs during the last 12 months. Their sounds as they slept, dreaming of who knows what, their nails on our timber floor, their barks, all of their noise. Whilst I still sometimes ache for their sounds, they are now replaced with sounds of two puppies, bringing their own sounds to my life
Toddler chatter. The learning of a language is incredibly creative. I love conversations with very small children. I will definitely miss those sweet moments of language development when my grandkids all are past that learning stage.
My late husband used to play a blues riff on his guitar and it would drive me nuts-- especially when we were watching TV or chatting away about our day. But, damn, now I really miss it and wish I'd recorded it.
And the sound of the wind in the poplar and pine trees at my parents rustic cabin. Nothing says "up North" in Minnesota like that sound.
The bubbling sound of our birdbath/fountain just outside our bedroom window. It is muted by the closed window in winter and I miss its soothing sound.
I remember a couple of sounds from when I was a kid that I haven't heard since, but often think about. Just about the time I woke up for school (7am) the morning whistle from a local factory would go off signaling the start time of the work day. For some reason I always felt comforted by it, (probably not the factory workers though!). The other sound was the weird ramming clang of the drop forge. At the time I had no idea what it was and only learned years later. The drop forge plant was probably a mile or more away but the sound traveled. I still think about it.
My mother saying hi hon
My husband wakes up every morning whistling or humming - and he has a remarkable repertoire... everything from classical to jazz to rock to tv jingles. It's always a surprising delight. I treasure it now and hope to hear it for many more years.
Bird’s chirp !
Sparrows are disappearing very fast… they used to be a very common Bird in cities but their number have dropped by 75% between 2003 and 2016 in paris…
What makes me sad also is the « shifting baseline » : children born nowadays will perceive as normal Not to hear to sparrow’s chirp (just like it’s normal for me to drive for 8 hours without having to stop to clean the windshield because there are not as many insects nowadays as when my parents were kids)
So many others have mentioned bird calls, but there is one bird that used to be as consistent as sunrise back home in Caracas, Venezuela. It's called the great kiskadee in English (it's found in southern Texas as well) and we call it "cristofué". Both names come from the distinct call it makes, and it almost always calls early in the morning. Now that I've emigrated to Florida, I appreciate the mockingbirds and the blue jays and even the crows and occasional cardinal, but nothing says home like my "cristofué". I miss them as much as I miss my parents back home.
I didn't read all of these, so someone else may have said this already, but I miss the sound of the rotary dial phones.
We moved into a house last summer that is visited by swifts from May - August and when they leave everything sounds far too quiet. I miss their screams so much in the weeks after they depart and I'm sure I will throughout the winter too!
https://aporee.org/aboutRadioAporee.mp3
Great subject, thanks Rob.
If someone hasn't already posted this, the site linked above is fascinating to listen to. That clip is a longer explanation of the site itself, but just go to aporee.org and start listening.
When I’m out for a walk, and come across a leaf, that needs to be stepped on, to hear that satisfying crunch...
El sonido diario de mi vida es sobre todo Gina, mi perrita de 11 años, una bichón maltes preciosa, adorable, entrañable, es mi amor, mi compañera de vida. Un sonido que extraño?, uff que difícil, me cuesta recordar, quizá escuchar a mi madre preparando chocolate los domingos en casa, el sonido del vinilo cuándo mi hermano ponía los discos de supertramp, el sonido y aroma que extraño, sí, ese puede ser uno de tantos momentos.
Probablemente el sonido que extrañaré serán los gruñidos de Gina, los momentos con ella. ya tiene 11 años, eso me apena, me pongo triste. Gracias por tan bonito post, me hizo recordar muchas cosas bonitas que ya no están en mi vida. 💙