There are arborists outside my apartment, right now. And the noise they’re making is heavenly.

I was up early anyway, since I heard rain and I went to the window to work on my symphonic poem, Rain at the Window. There are few things more peaceful than the patter-patter, and I want to incorporate that into my music. Maybe some form of light throat singing, a sort of melodic, soft yodel. That’s the thing about my music…you can’t think about it too hard. You just have to think ‘what would the rain say?’ And it’s never actually words, so that just makes it even harder. But that’s the burden I bear, to bring the voice of the world to the masses.

And tree removal equipment is just…mmm, spot-on. I need to find more arborists for hire in Melbourne and hide behind a tree to listen to them work. And note to self: pick that tree carefully. It’s just that they produce such a variety of sounds, from the rough, throaty growl of the chainsaw to the screeching magnificence of the ring-thing that I cannot describe but seem to chop through those trees like there’s no tomorrow.

Golly, you could make an entire musical about these people and their arborist work. It would be entitled “UEERERRRNIIRRRRR: The Untold Chainsaw Story.” Of course, I’m not always looking to appropriate the words of objects for my own gain. I’m happy to just sit here as I am, listening to the tree removal people doing their work and enjoying the music. Add in the ‘tik-tik-tik’ of my malfunctioning light-bulb and it’s a choir all by itself.

I wonder if it’s a long-term job, or if these tree removal people are soon to be gone, taking their music with them. I certainly hope they stay and serenade me some more. My second gig at Café Tüütu fell through- apparently it was something to do with all the glass being cracked- so I’ve got a bit of time to just…listen.

-Deirdre