:-) and I made some magic ink out of that black goo at the bottom of lochans in the woods. I should do one of those 'secret tips for writing' Substacks!
“They landed and conferred. One of them tilted her head to face me, paused briefly, and wrote some short preliminary footnote in the ledger of the world.”
My goodness, thank you for this sincere reexamination of the history-keepers; so much more light and ethereal than the tomes of stone.
How many ways do I love and relate to this story? More than the faces I have already counted in “The storymakers high on An Mhucais.”
Too many of my own stories are surfacing with the help of your words. Suffice it to say, I would be writing a novella as my reply. Thank you for writing a story that caresses my own memories of bogs , and dragonflies , some traveling to and from the thin places.
“We don’t have long. Show yourself to dragonflies. While you still have time.”
My true story is one where a dragonfly introduced herself to me, (yes, definitely female) And I will never ever forget. What a gorgeous photograph of your Nell.
Hi there, Lor. You have such a treasure chest of stories. Your lady dragonfly will surely have spotted a good soul and needed to jot you down in the big book :-)
"To be with dragonflies in the warming morning sun is to submit. To abandon ambition as hopeless, to abandon hope as superfluous. To think again."
I am always so grateful for your words, landing right when I need to read them.
You took me back to a perfect day in the Pyrenees ten years ago when—sat in a shallow river with my husband and young daughter—we waited patiently as dragonflies landed on our arms and hands. A whole day was whiled away just watching and learning and oh, how peaceful and nourishing it was.
Thank you for this, David. I love the idea of us a footnote. A comforting thought. It's dragonfly season here in the Western Cape; they hover and dance across my path often in these early summer days, like visitors from the Otherworld.
"This empire of bog has clearly visible edges. But once you step within those boundaries, it becomes as wide as the restless ocean of your mind."
Ahh David, how utterly those iridescent wings beguile... I lost my mind too often on our own small bog, more times than I remember, but once, so far over the edge of its boundaries that I fear many parts were left behind, probably waiting there still to be gathered up and returned - it would explain much these days.
I had to smile at this "There are few enough road signs and none which warn you that you are approaching the Otherworld." how true, how very true!
I sat one day last summer, one of those rare warm days, on a tree stump near the edge of a lochan in a wet woodland and was amazed at the noise dragonflies made as they flew around me. I just didn’t know, or, more likely, had never stayed still long enough to really pay attention to their aerial acrobatics. It was glorious.
Yes, they clatter. It seems such an ugly word for something so beautiful, lol.
Returning to the Highlands tomorrow after a short sojourn in Prague to see son #3 and explore the city a little. I’m hoping there is still snow so I can get out with my camera 🙂
Delightful and deeply observed. You have such a way of surrendering to a place and its inhabitants, weaving story all around with your own intricate calligraphies and layers of associations. And you know the best way to entice a dragonfly to land, which is to present a perch from which it can pause, survey and make notes in the Book of Life. xo
Hi Carmine. Sorry for the long pause, just been up to my neck in linguistics for the last week or so. Sorry to read your sorrows but glad to hear the deer grunting at you. They get by. I guess we will for a little bit longer :-)
Good point. As for the deer, I wonder if they are where the adjective “disgruntled” originated? They did seem quite disgruntled by being disturbed by me, at least. :-)
Oh my. You’ve done it again, with your beguiling words and beguiling ways and beguiling and beguiling! I wonder if you’d find such enchantments in this ‘new’ land - which of course, is only new to us settlers. The Indigenous folx have some bewitching tales of their own, particularly the Inuit, whose tales are often violent and bloody, I’m guessing as a reflection of their harshest of environs. But as always, glad for your thoughts! Bit hard to really picture dragonflies when it’s -20°C!
Heavens. Pretty hard to keep your eyes open at -20. I don’t have much experience of those amazing lands of yours. Occasionally I used to do some work in Goose Bay up in northern Labrador. A few weeks at a time. But I never really got past the shock and awe of it all. The big of it all. Take best care of yourself until spring :-)
Thank you, David. It is a big country. I used to coach would be migrants to Canada in Taiwan, and those who had been here before all said the same thing — Canada… SOOOOO big!! Labrador is a harsh bit of the earth, isn’t it? I wonder what you were doing up there? You know they call the area ‘the Rock’. Well deserved I think! Am keeping inside today with fuzzy slippers and hot drinks. It’s even colder out there!
Thank you, David. The weather has obligingly warmed up to a perfectly reasonable -7°C, but coziness will continue! And yes — I hadn’t considered the island concept before, that is a real life doggerel!
You possess a magical pen that pours enchantments from its nib….
:-) and I made some magic ink out of that black goo at the bottom of lochans in the woods. I should do one of those 'secret tips for writing' Substacks!
“They landed and conferred. One of them tilted her head to face me, paused briefly, and wrote some short preliminary footnote in the ledger of the world.”
My goodness, thank you for this sincere reexamination of the history-keepers; so much more light and ethereal than the tomes of stone.
Hi Kimberley. Yes :-) less burdensome than those crumbling tablets and dusty manuscripts.
How many ways do I love and relate to this story? More than the faces I have already counted in “The storymakers high on An Mhucais.”
Too many of my own stories are surfacing with the help of your words. Suffice it to say, I would be writing a novella as my reply. Thank you for writing a story that caresses my own memories of bogs , and dragonflies , some traveling to and from the thin places.
“We don’t have long. Show yourself to dragonflies. While you still have time.”
My true story is one where a dragonfly introduced herself to me, (yes, definitely female) And I will never ever forget. What a gorgeous photograph of your Nell.
Hi there, Lor. You have such a treasure chest of stories. Your lady dragonfly will surely have spotted a good soul and needed to jot you down in the big book :-)
Lor, your comments will someday collectively live as a library of kindness and penetrating self-reflection.
It would most certainly be deserved!
🙏Well, maybe in my own mind… Happy Thanksgiving my friend! 🦃🍽🍁🥧
Not just yours Lor!
The dragonflies cast a spell through your words. Thank you.
Hi Julie. Thanks for reading some more.
"To be with dragonflies in the warming morning sun is to submit. To abandon ambition as hopeless, to abandon hope as superfluous. To think again."
I am always so grateful for your words, landing right when I need to read them.
You took me back to a perfect day in the Pyrenees ten years ago when—sat in a shallow river with my husband and young daughter—we waited patiently as dragonflies landed on our arms and hands. A whole day was whiled away just watching and learning and oh, how peaceful and nourishing it was.
Heavens, that was a day well spent :-)
Thank you for this, David. I love the idea of us a footnote. A comforting thought. It's dragonfly season here in the Western Cape; they hover and dance across my path often in these early summer days, like visitors from the Otherworld.
Thank you for reading, Carri. Thinking of your summer dragonflies as we congeal into a frosty winter :-)
"This empire of bog has clearly visible edges. But once you step within those boundaries, it becomes as wide as the restless ocean of your mind."
Ahh David, how utterly those iridescent wings beguile... I lost my mind too often on our own small bog, more times than I remember, but once, so far over the edge of its boundaries that I fear many parts were left behind, probably waiting there still to be gathered up and returned - it would explain much these days.
I had to smile at this "There are few enough road signs and none which warn you that you are approaching the Otherworld." how true, how very true!
Its so lovely to share those little place-based jokes (the road signs and all) with someone who knows :-)
I sat one day last summer, one of those rare warm days, on a tree stump near the edge of a lochan in a wet woodland and was amazed at the noise dragonflies made as they flew around me. I just didn’t know, or, more likely, had never stayed still long enough to really pay attention to their aerial acrobatics. It was glorious.
Hi again, Lynn. Hope all well in the high lands. They do make a clatter, don't they. Sor tof remind me of very sharp scissors :-)
Yes, they clatter. It seems such an ugly word for something so beautiful, lol.
Returning to the Highlands tomorrow after a short sojourn in Prague to see son #3 and explore the city a little. I’m hoping there is still snow so I can get out with my camera 🙂
David! I just discovered another sleight-of-hand (wing?) talent of dragonflies and knew I must share it with you…
https://www.science.org/content/article/absolutely-insane-dragonfly-s-extreme-loop-loops-are-unparalleled-nature
Thanks Carmine. I've often wondered how maneuverable they might be. Never would have dreamt that they could do that :-)
I know! 😮
Some Native Americans consider Dragonflies as Ancestors.
Thanks, Bonnie. I had no idea. So much wisdom in the world.
Delightful and deeply observed. You have such a way of surrendering to a place and its inhabitants, weaving story all around with your own intricate calligraphies and layers of associations. And you know the best way to entice a dragonfly to land, which is to present a perch from which it can pause, survey and make notes in the Book of Life. xo
Hi Carmine. Sorry for the long pause, just been up to my neck in linguistics for the last week or so. Sorry to read your sorrows but glad to hear the deer grunting at you. They get by. I guess we will for a little bit longer :-)
Good point. As for the deer, I wonder if they are where the adjective “disgruntled” originated? They did seem quite disgruntled by being disturbed by me, at least. :-)
Oh my. You’ve done it again, with your beguiling words and beguiling ways and beguiling and beguiling! I wonder if you’d find such enchantments in this ‘new’ land - which of course, is only new to us settlers. The Indigenous folx have some bewitching tales of their own, particularly the Inuit, whose tales are often violent and bloody, I’m guessing as a reflection of their harshest of environs. But as always, glad for your thoughts! Bit hard to really picture dragonflies when it’s -20°C!
Heavens. Pretty hard to keep your eyes open at -20. I don’t have much experience of those amazing lands of yours. Occasionally I used to do some work in Goose Bay up in northern Labrador. A few weeks at a time. But I never really got past the shock and awe of it all. The big of it all. Take best care of yourself until spring :-)
Thank you, David. It is a big country. I used to coach would be migrants to Canada in Taiwan, and those who had been here before all said the same thing — Canada… SOOOOO big!! Labrador is a harsh bit of the earth, isn’t it? I wonder what you were doing up there? You know they call the area ‘the Rock’. Well deserved I think! Am keeping inside today with fuzzy slippers and hot drinks. It’s even colder out there!
Hi Heather. Coming from an island, even a big one, to a full-up endless continental landmass must be like going into space! Stay cosy :-)
Thank you, David. The weather has obligingly warmed up to a perfectly reasonable -7°C, but coziness will continue! And yes — I hadn’t considered the island concept before, that is a real life doggerel!