The environmental recording for Oak Island Rain Soundwalk was recorded April 30th 2024. It’s a really gentle soundscape; dewy and hushed. I chose this photo for the cover because, if you look closely, it captures the fine rain drops that fell that morning. It’s hard to take a picture of rain. I got lucky here.

I’ve gave Oak Island quite a bit of attention last year, initially surveying the soundscape without ornamentation:

Later, I visited the spur road that leads to the area in the winter, basking in the sound of skeins of geese overhead and croaking Sandhill Cranes foraging in fallow fields.

Finally, I used a recording made peering in the heart of the 100 acre Oak Savanna preserved at Oak Island for my sophomore Listening Spot effort:

So we’re back, and even though it captures an out-of-season sound for this part of the world, I thought it might be a soothing addition for summer programming.

The weather here in the Pacific Northwest has been idyllic. Meanwhile, headlines land in my news feed about heat waves on the US East Coast and in Europe. If you're feeling the heat, this one goes out to you.

In this season of open windows and being outside, our cities become a little noisier. Sometimes that can be exciting. Sometimes it can be unwanted.

I make no pretenses about what my soundwalks are for, what purpose they serve, but if this one can quell any thirst for peace, quiet, and tenderness out there, I’m all for it.

In this landscape we hear migratory Bullock’s Oriole, Rufous Hummingbird, Orange-crowned Warbler, Yellow-rumped Warbler, Western Tanager, Purple Finch, Tree Swallow, Black-headed Grosbeak, Savannah Sparrow, Red-wing Blackbird... The interesting thing is they are all singing lowkey, as the kids say, as in quietly. The rain seems to have a subduing effect.

Thanks for listening and reading! I’m making this one available in its entirety here on Substack, because I think there is probably someone new-to-me it could be useful to. If you enjoy what you hear, please consider telling just one person about it. As per usual, Oak Island Rain Soundwalk is available on all music streaming services today, July 4, 2025, Happy Independence Day!

More than once in recent conversations I’ve revealed I’m not all that fond of Summer. The response has been interesting: incredulous laughter; a bemused disbelief. Why? Explain, they seemed to say.

Maybe you recall the sleeper hit “Heatwaves” by Glass Animals that was ubiquitous in the Summer of 2022? There’s a line that I always misheard:

Heat waves been fakin' me out

Can't make you happier now…

Well, I always thought it was heat waves been freakin’ me out, because that made perfect sense to me. The year before, in late June 2021, the US Pacific Northwest experienced a Heat Dome event that shattered all kinds of records. It reached 116 degrees Fahrenheit here in Portland, Oregon. It sparked wildfires, warped train tracks, and contributed to a heat-related death toll of over 1400 people in the greater geographic area including Canada. Over 70 heat-related deaths occurred in the county I live in.

I rarely enjoy feeling hot. The smell of forest fires provokes an adrenaline flight response that requires distinctly modern reasoning to suppress. The cabin fever that settles in after multiple bad air days due to wildfire smoke produces a profound feeling of disassociation. Smoky skies were until recently thought to be a western US state phenomenon, but that seems to up for debate now.

The anticipation of these sensations as markers of Summer, often arriving earlier in the season each year, just makes me wish I could skip to fall. These are a couple of the reasons I don’t entirely look forward to summer.

Nevertheless, apart from two days with temperatures in the 90’s, it’s been a mild and dry June here. Temperature-wise, it’s felt more or less in line with an average end to spring in the Pacific Northwest, which is to say, lovely. Highs have hovered in the low 70’s.

Back in Forest park, baby bird voices can be heard seemingly around every other bend along the trails. Baby bird sounds are imbued with so much joy, new life, and vulnerability. You’ll get better looks at the parents too, as they dart through the shrubs and understory defensively.

American Robins can be seen hopping along the trail in front of you in an apparent defensive distraction behavior to protect a nearby nest. In this way, it is a season of being on guard for the birds too.

The trills of Pacific Wrens overlap at intervals. Their effusive song is sweetened by the columnar structure of the conifer woodlands. I picture the frenetic notes of their song like pinballs bouncing off bumpers, scattering through the understory, arriving at my ears in a wash.

At the 16-minute mark we hear a Stellar’s Jay practicing its Red-tailed Hawk imitation. It must be a youngster because it calls again and again, not quite getting it right.

Summer officially starts on June 21st, the day after this recording is released. All but the deepest creek canyons have already dried up in Forest Park. A wildfire 75 miles east of here destroyed 56 homes in the Columbia Gorge community of Rowena, Oregon last week. As I sit here writing this, it’s 34% contained. This news is just one of many developments in that time span to absorb, consider, and file away in my mental model of the world.

I was out near where this soundscape was recorded last week, doing some plein air sketching and recording. It was so serene. When the world can feel overwhelming, it’s nice to just have something to do with your hands, something to focus on in the present, something to contemplate with a sense of wonder.

Happy Summer Solstice. Thanks for being here; for listening and reading. Forest Spring Suite is available under the artist name Listening Spot on all streaming platforms Friday, June 20th.