The bright orange and reds of the leaves. The smell of decay and renewal. Water rushing down a small creek through the woods. Flights of crows overhead near dusk. The frenetic calls of chickadees and other songbirds as they rustle through the shelter of the branches of the various trees and shrubs bordering our rental property. A rush of traffic noise. Sirens, ambulances. The city’s ceaseless background sounds.
Music can be inspired by it all, but lives in its own world, sometimes a memory, sometimes prescience.