Thomas Doty – Storyteller
The Sounds of Water
I wander through the Japanese garden in Lithia Park listening to water. On this hot afternoon there is just enough flow in the creek to make water sounds distinct. Too much overblends. Not enough lacks resonance.
Along meanderings in the creek, waterfalls plunk, riffles swish. Ripples that murmur in pools are bounced by rocks and absorbed by bamboo and moss.
From the shelter, a symbol of the tea house, I hear the ghost of water dripping into the stone basin ... the pouring of tea. And in boiling thunderheads on the horizon, the slanting rain.
On this sweltering afternoon, the sounds of water are everywhere.