I was jogging one day, hearing only my rhythmic breathing, when the sound of a hand-pushed lawn mower caught my attention. “That’s a beautiful sound!” I called to the man pushing it. Inspired by a sudden thought, I blurted, “It’s an acoustic lawn mower!” He considered, caught on, and laughed.
”Acoustic” is the term our rock/jazz musician son uses for non-electronic musical instruments. When he applies it to our dignified traditional piano, it seems belittling. But now the word seemed a badge of integrity, a term with panache for vanishing sounds and keen senses. My new perspective was reinforced when I picked up another appealing sound coming from our front porch, that of an acoustic churn. My daughter was hand-cranking…
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