Sonic Childhood Memories

Ok so I am hoping to only write one hundredth of this post, since I know/suspect pretty much everyone who reads these random rants of mine is (a) sentient and (b) has keen ears…. So I am going to ask you to contribute a sonic memory from your childhood… To start the ball rolling, heres three of mine:



I grew up on a farm (near the Rangitata River mouth, Canterbury, South Island, New Zealand) & occasionally I used to potter around in the shed making things… quite what I was making I can’t actually remember, but I do remember the huge old bluegum tree that was behind the shed. This tree was huge, maybe 100 feet tall… And at a certain time of the year it would randomnly drop bluegum nuts from its branches & these nuts would fall from a great height, land on the tin roof of the shed & slowly roll down the angled roof, until it fell off & dropped to the ground. I close my eyes & I can still hear that sound…..



Also farm related; every day after lunch, as my Dad headed back out to work he would walk out of the dining room, down the hall & then he would go over to the barometer attached to the wall & tap it, to see what the weather was likely to be doing in the immediate future. This barometer was like a giant old watch, so tapping it had a lovely glass & just slightly loose metal mechanism sound to it…. hmmm must get me a barometer, I’d bet its more (locally) accurate than the TV weather girl…



Lastly, this one is a smell & sound memory: scratch & sniff! My parents farm backed on to the Rangitata River and when I was young my idea of fun at the weekend was to jump on a motorbike & go for a blast up the riverbed, navigating through gorse & bush, crossing streams and finding my way upstream or down… But one summer I heard a funny/weird story of some dudes growing some kind of huge marijuana plantation in the gorse an hours ride up the river from home. Imagine such madness as local policeman pretended to be fishermen, waiting to catch the stoners; as a teenager I was intrigued as hell. So after the bust goes down me & my motorbike head upstream to go see what the hell they were up to… And after riding around all the trails I know & eventually finding a path into their deviency I ended up crawling through gorse & broom to a beautifully tended but empty strip of soil, recently stripped of 6 foot ganja plants! Now some people consider gorse & broom as weeds but ever since I have considered them to hold some ulterior purpose… And on a sunny day if you are anywhere near a broom bush, you will hear its seed pods exploding…. and you will smell the sweet aroma of gorse flowering…… that memory is just up the river…



So when you think of your childhood, what is the FIRST (or best) sound you remember?


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