Plockton has to be one of the most idyllic village in Scotland, even in the rain. I know, because it was my destination today, this drizzly of days. First, I have to tell you about my meal at the Plockton Inn. Homemade fish chowder was the best ever—credit goes to fresh fish and just the right amount of cream. Nothing from a can in this country! That was my “starter”, followed by my “main”, which was a platter of three different preparations of smoked salmon. I loved them all; that and a fresh role, and I was satisfied. (Um, another S word. Of course we all long to be satisfied.)
I’d say that all the 3S’s are well ensconced in Plankton, but today I was particularly conscious of silence. Along the foot path above the row of houses that parallel the harbor road, I experience just the right silence. This ideal silence was composed of sounds of nature, none too loud nor too persistent; the sounds of life, free and unique—birds calling, water lapping, rain tapping on my umbrella, a dog barking on the beach, and yes, people in sailboats calling back and forth to each other; and yes, in the rain (Another um for another day-- I wonder how much the visual contributed to this ideal silence?)
Anyway, today it was clear to me that there isn’t just one ideal silence. It’s context bound and varies with the individual and among individuals. But we know it when we see it—no, when we hear it. I heard it in Plockton, in the rain and even when it started clearing.
I’d say that all the 3S’s are well ensconced in Plankton, but today I was particularly conscious of silence. Along the foot path above the row of houses that parallel the harbor road, I experience just the right silence. This ideal silence was composed of sounds of nature, none too loud nor too persistent; the sounds of life, free and unique—birds calling, water lapping, rain tapping on my umbrella, a dog barking on the beach, and yes, people in sailboats calling back and forth to each other; and yes, in the rain (Another um for another day-- I wonder how much the visual contributed to this ideal silence?)
Anyway, today it was clear to me that there isn’t just one ideal silence. It’s context bound and varies with the individual and among individuals. But we know it when we see it—no, when we hear it. I heard it in Plockton, in the rain and even when it started clearing.
