If you don’t know me that is fine but I have to tell you that I am a talker. Silent is not usually something in my vocabulary. Unless it is someone telling me to be silent.
When I lived in a suburb of Denver Colorado (Yeah, I know pot and skiing …. that is a whole nother subject!). The sound of silence usually ment turning off the television, computer and maybe the radio.
Then I moved to Haxtun, Colorado. Silence there ment the train running on schedule, the siren that echoed everyday (except Sunday!) at seven AM and noon and one P.M. and of course the welcomed six p.m. which was supposed to mean dinner time. I thought it was silent. Coming from traffic, police sirens, barking dogs and basic loud neighbors it was relatively silent.
Then my son asked me to move in. To Kirk still Colorado. I found a really different kind of silent. The kind sung in church. “Silent Night” I heard that it was composed because the church piano was broken and the only musical instrument they had was the priest’s guitar. I wonder about the silence that night so long ago.
Sorry, back to the silent prompt. Here in Kirk the silence is almost deafening. With the occasional cow or calf bellowing. Horses are pretty mellow. Dogs being teased by the barn cats seem to be the only thing makes noise at night. Too cold for crickets. even the coyotes have found a warmer place to howl. With the snow as insulation the world seems to enjoy the silence of winter.
Stories that take me from city girl to country woman 
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