Train horn far away in the morning and evening.
Cattle lowing at each other as they move to the new pasture for the day. This combined with the early birds and late frogs is a quintessential rural central Florida morning. We have a bull that makes my Basso voice sound like a squeak, and several of the harem cows low back at him as they keep in touch.
Thunderstorms.
My dog’s early morning yawns. They either start off low and go Awooooooooeeeeeeeeee from a near growl through all the pitches to nearly a cry, or vice versa starting high: eeeeeoooooooooooooaaaaamurf. When I hear this before I’ve opened my eyes, I can almost time the next few minutes to the second: First will be a few more more yawns, followed by a gentle head shake. Then you’ll feel her crawl on her belly up between **Nashiitashii **and myself. Thirty seconds later I will feel the pleasant weight of her head on my chest. If I open my eyes now I will be treated to the sight of her big liquid black eyes looking right into mine and the thump of her tail on my legs.
“Gothan Dagn littlya Nenna.”
(good morning little Nenna, a terrible attempt at phonetic Icelandic)
Nenna: Kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss
Bacon frying.
The delicious bell like “bong” of any metal bowl turned over and struck like a cymbal.
The sound cedar wood makes when I carve it with small chisels. It has a delicate hollowness that other woods lack, and i associate with the smell of the oils in the wood.
The “a” string on my 12 string guitar. That whole string is the “sweet spot” that will ring true almost endlessly if I pluck it correctly. It sets the whole body of the instrument vibrating. The dog loves this sound and will come from across the house to sit and listen to it.
