Hi Carrie, thanks for coming back for more. Shuggle sounds very familiar to me - I think it is a Scottish or at any rate a northern word. Before going west into Gaeldom I lived for a long while in the north-east of Scotland and I think I unconsciously picked up all sorts of little treasures :-)
If I tell you you're beautiful, in that way you tell the land, I'm not sure you'll accept it. But you might. Do you suppose the land accepts your compliments. Knows how? Does it blush and turn away, questioning whether you're daft for saying it, or wondering what you're up to?
It's a magical thing, my friend, being allowed to tag along on these daybreak wanders, watching you admit your smitten-ness, whisper your ardor, explain your devotion, line by line.
Children who grow up watching their parents offer these sorts of gifts to one another are better armed for love themselves, less afraid of rejection and more naturally inclined to take the risk. And so, we readers, we learn about heat from watching you blow on the embers of your adoration, of place ...and time ...and the flow. And every bit of that is a gift that empowers each of us, gives us permission to see what can't always be seen, feel what we might otherwise just hope we feel, stand there looking the thing in the eye while we recite the reasons for our affection to it.
Oh, you know, the old place has seen us come and go. Silver-tongued devils. She cackles and waits for my bones to add a bit more calcium to the mix. Then we might talk about romance, she says :-) [Just emailed you, by the way]
Always a delight when I see your email in my inbox. Cannot think of a better way to enjoy my morning coffee . Reading your words stirs my imagination , and then hearing your voice reading these enchanting words is such a pleasant soul filling experience. Thank you ! Shine on David. !! The tides still tug at the sleeves of our dreams... will be repeating that line as I move through my day...
Katherine, that is a lovely thing to hear. Sometimes I write a sentence like putting a toy boat out into the current and wonder where it will end up. Mostly, of course, you never know who finds it and turns it over in their hand to look at it. But sometimes you do :-)
Thanks, David! Favorite sentence: "Mallerstang Edge begins again to count the stars." Made me wonder if you started with that idea and then wrote the piece toward it?
Ha! Angela, you know me too well. Often as I write these pieces it takes me a while to find out where they are going. Often about half way through I see through a gap in the trees or over the edge of a scarp where the end-point might be. Finding a path to it can involve some rough and tumble :-)
Beautiful, David. What you say about the inhale and exhale of water rings true. When we have an extra-low tide in our little cove, we marvel at where all that water went. When it returns, we marvel again.
The Helm wind! That brought back memories. My late Dad used to always talk about it descending Cross Fell. It created strange clouds that looked like UFO's. I have photos of the clouds somewhere but can't find them.
Hi Linda. Just back down from the hill where I was looking over at Cross Fell in all its lengthy glory. I think that strictly speaking our valley's wind in just outside true Helm country. But I heard one of the old locals refer to the Little Helm, so I reckon we can sneak in under the umbrella :-)
Surely this is a love story David, an undying proclamation of deepest amour in inhales and exhales rhythmic with the whispers of the sea?
"The long-reach swells and leviathans of the open ocean are unknown to us." as indeed they are unknown to me, pined for, longed for, the ache for salty air. Beautiful always, you beguile me every time.
Hi Susie. We only have to wait a few tens of millions of years - our hills and valleys will surely be inundated by then. Then we can slosh about with the starfish again :-)
I agree with what many have written already, this is beautiful, but I love the humour too, I especially enjoyed the convening of the feathered envoys in the last paragraph - those clandestine Woodcock!
Dear Liz, sorry for the delay in replying to your kind message. Somehow got lost in the ticker-tape. But I was up on the hill just now and listening to the first curlew and the first lapwings, which reminded me of your mention of clandestine woodcock. And aren't they just the best at concealing their secret mission? We only have a few here to breed, it isn't a very wooded valley. And it isn't, to be honest, exactly clear where 'our' birds overwinter. Which was just fine for narrative purposes - they appear from the shadows and creep about at dusk. Thank you following along with, and smiling at my stretching of the boundaries :-)
Dear David, this holds so much, so gracefully, that I read its wild spell three times. The invocation of naming...the dreaming waterscape and its gods...following the pathways, all knitted together and whole. I saw them mapped on my screen, following the lines you have traced, river to river to sea(s) — the western, emotional and the eastern, analytical — and you in the middle, pulled by invisible tides, writing the world into sense. x
Across the globe I read your words and can taste the salty air, hear the waves of a place I’ve never been. Thank you for taking me there. So beautiful.
Beautiful, as always. I love the thought that our tears reach the sea. By the way, did you make up the word "shuggles?" It's quite wonderful.
Hi Carrie, thanks for coming back for more. Shuggle sounds very familiar to me - I think it is a Scottish or at any rate a northern word. Before going west into Gaeldom I lived for a long while in the north-east of Scotland and I think I unconsciously picked up all sorts of little treasures :-)
If I tell you you're beautiful, in that way you tell the land, I'm not sure you'll accept it. But you might. Do you suppose the land accepts your compliments. Knows how? Does it blush and turn away, questioning whether you're daft for saying it, or wondering what you're up to?
It's a magical thing, my friend, being allowed to tag along on these daybreak wanders, watching you admit your smitten-ness, whisper your ardor, explain your devotion, line by line.
Children who grow up watching their parents offer these sorts of gifts to one another are better armed for love themselves, less afraid of rejection and more naturally inclined to take the risk. And so, we readers, we learn about heat from watching you blow on the embers of your adoration, of place ...and time ...and the flow. And every bit of that is a gift that empowers each of us, gives us permission to see what can't always be seen, feel what we might otherwise just hope we feel, stand there looking the thing in the eye while we recite the reasons for our affection to it.
And that is a fine gift.
And so I thank you.
Oh, you know, the old place has seen us come and go. Silver-tongued devils. She cackles and waits for my bones to add a bit more calcium to the mix. Then we might talk about romance, she says :-) [Just emailed you, by the way]
Always a delight when I see your email in my inbox. Cannot think of a better way to enjoy my morning coffee . Reading your words stirs my imagination , and then hearing your voice reading these enchanting words is such a pleasant soul filling experience. Thank you ! Shine on David. !! The tides still tug at the sleeves of our dreams... will be repeating that line as I move through my day...
Katherine, that is a lovely thing to hear. Sometimes I write a sentence like putting a toy boat out into the current and wonder where it will end up. Mostly, of course, you never know who finds it and turns it over in their hand to look at it. But sometimes you do :-)
Thanks, David! Favorite sentence: "Mallerstang Edge begins again to count the stars." Made me wonder if you started with that idea and then wrote the piece toward it?
Ha! Angela, you know me too well. Often as I write these pieces it takes me a while to find out where they are going. Often about half way through I see through a gap in the trees or over the edge of a scarp where the end-point might be. Finding a path to it can involve some rough and tumble :-)
Breathtaking language. xoLA
Dear LA, that is generous and kind. I so want the language itself to be a character in the narrative. She deserves my respect and admiration :-)
Marvelous, David! I can imagine you roaming the countryside with sharp awareness of everything teeming with life!
Hi Patricia. Thanks for sticking with the journey. Its lovely to see familiar faces on the path :-)
Teeming.
typo - fixed
Beautiful, David. What you say about the inhale and exhale of water rings true. When we have an extra-low tide in our little cove, we marvel at where all that water went. When it returns, we marvel again.
Hi Julie. I don't know how you find the time to read my stuff, you being so projectful and involved. But I thank you for it. Bless your cove.
I love this. What a poetic description!
It resonates because we live landlocked in the middle of Scotland and have the same experiences of nature.
Hi Felicity. That is kind of you, thanks. Never far from rushing waters in the middle of Scotland :-) and no stranger to the easterly winds ;-)
Your beautiful imagery sent a 'shuggle' up my spine.
Oh, to be an otter.
Thank you.
That's kind of you, Mike. Can't beat a shuggle :-)
The Helm wind! That brought back memories. My late Dad used to always talk about it descending Cross Fell. It created strange clouds that looked like UFO's. I have photos of the clouds somewhere but can't find them.
Hi Linda. Just back down from the hill where I was looking over at Cross Fell in all its lengthy glory. I think that strictly speaking our valley's wind in just outside true Helm country. But I heard one of the old locals refer to the Little Helm, so I reckon we can sneak in under the umbrella :-)
Yes I reckon you can too! 😊
Surely this is a love story David, an undying proclamation of deepest amour in inhales and exhales rhythmic with the whispers of the sea?
"The long-reach swells and leviathans of the open ocean are unknown to us." as indeed they are unknown to me, pined for, longed for, the ache for salty air. Beautiful always, you beguile me every time.
Hi Susie. We only have to wait a few tens of millions of years - our hills and valleys will surely be inundated by then. Then we can slosh about with the starfish again :-)
Stunning. While reading, I felt myself sculpted, eroded and remade by infinite relations.
Hi Kimberley. That water - sticky, slippery, clever stuff! Congratulations on your big birthday and your big book :-)
I agree with what many have written already, this is beautiful, but I love the humour too, I especially enjoyed the convening of the feathered envoys in the last paragraph - those clandestine Woodcock!
Dear Liz, sorry for the delay in replying to your kind message. Somehow got lost in the ticker-tape. But I was up on the hill just now and listening to the first curlew and the first lapwings, which reminded me of your mention of clandestine woodcock. And aren't they just the best at concealing their secret mission? We only have a few here to breed, it isn't a very wooded valley. And it isn't, to be honest, exactly clear where 'our' birds overwinter. Which was just fine for narrative purposes - they appear from the shadows and creep about at dusk. Thank you following along with, and smiling at my stretching of the boundaries :-)
Dear David, this holds so much, so gracefully, that I read its wild spell three times. The invocation of naming...the dreaming waterscape and its gods...following the pathways, all knitted together and whole. I saw them mapped on my screen, following the lines you have traced, river to river to sea(s) — the western, emotional and the eastern, analytical — and you in the middle, pulled by invisible tides, writing the world into sense. x
You are such kind reader. That was exactly what I wanted - to see over the ridges and peaks and feel the whole span of the land as one big embrace :-)
Across the globe I read your words and can taste the salty air, hear the waves of a place I’ve never been. Thank you for taking me there. So beautiful.
Thanks, Kaylene, for coming along and for taking the time to respond in kindness :-)
This is simply beautiful. Thank you.
Thank you, Ralph for reading and responding. That is kind and generous. Helps me keep on pushing forwards :-)