Somewhere between a hobby and a habit: carrying a little recorder into woods, marshes and empty streets before dawn, and keeping notes on what the microphone caught.
Lately
- Rain on a tin roof, thirty unbroken minutes
- A dawn chorus in early May, layered and impossible to count
- Distant church bells carried oddly clear across a lake
Gear
A pocket recorder, a pair of small mics, a fur windshield that has seen better days, and far too many spare batteries.
Why
Mostly to remember places by their sound. The written notes here are just an index; the recordings themselves live on an old drive.