When I read your words, I see the poetry in them, their heft and weight and balance … but when YOU read the words, I am transported to their world. It’s magic.
Thanks, India. I always used to read aloud to myself to look for rhythms and bugs, but it's fascinating how listening back to a recording adds a whole new dimension to the editing process. We live and we learn :-)
I am instantly transported… back to my long ago home in North Derbyshire, or perhaps I’m mistaken and it was to Ireland that my thoughts are veering? But I think there we had Lapwing and not Plover… so I dash back to Derbyshire and those bleak and barren hills where the wind whistles one tune and the plover know so well the note!
I love hearing you read! As a poet, I'm always seeking that one pure word, one that might distill the beauty of the Plover's call. I fail most of the time.
Your words flow and flower across the screen, but today I am listening to your voice as you lure us into the void and loneliness of the high fells, where our voices are meaningless and the golden plover is the timeless story teller and prophet of this place. The spirit of the bare rock, vast sky and 'arthritic' knots of heather. Actually this could make me weep - you have managed to summon a magic that our wild hearts rarely touch on these days. Thank you so much for your sensitive ear and eye - and the sharing of your experiences on your beautiful and ancient home ground.
Hi again. Thanks again. I was almost going to put a link to a recording down in a footnote. But its a strange thing - even though there are lots of lovely high quality recordings available they are somehow lacking something when the sound has been extracted from the landscape. I suppose we shouldn’t be surprised at that - but it is something that has made me stop and think.
As others have said before me, your writing is lyrical and magical. Also, the words you use transport me to another place and time, where nature was sacred and mystical. It still is - and you are helping all of us to remember that sacredness. Thank you!
I listened to this first, a couple of days ago. Your deliberate, thoughtful cadence, the immense respect to each word chosen, woven into images pregnant with spareness and sensuality. Stark contrast to car after car whizzing past on a six lane freeway, morning commuter traffic on a Tuesday while I drove toward a river delta with boardwalks and paths, and birds galore. I've never given much thought to the Christian 'rapture' story, first described by John Nelson Darby, but as I was driving along I suppose I did get a sense of it, finally, transported as I was. And better than their story, at least as it seems, for I was transported to a spare, grassy fastness at the edge of the sky rather than into a cloud stuffed with all manner of the saved and forgiven. I've been grateful more than once now for reading one of your tales. This one did nothing to diminish my gratitude and most certainly increased my awe at the power of a few words placed with such reverential care.
Hi again, David. River deltas - there’s memory-jogger. Such uncompromising places. Glad that the spoken words aren’t jumbling things up. It has been a real pleasure trying to make a fist of that new line of work. All the best to you.
You paint such a crushingly beautiful portrait of a place I’ve never been, I feel something that very closely resembles nostalgia for it. Thank you. I bow.
WoW. Thank you so much David. Your bedazzling, poetic choice of words conjure up the landscape of the Plover, and indeed the Plover himself in such a compelling way as the tale unfolds and unfurls - is absorbed. To hear you read it, a whole other dimension is revealed and I was spellbound. Pure Magic.
Thanks for reading and feeding back such energy, Carol. The reading for recording is new to me and showing me a whole new way to work. I'll keep trying to get it right :-)
Your words lead me back to a day in the fells in 2014, walking up to the Crinkle Crags, and having a picnic at Blea Tarn. Such beautiful country; I hope to visit it again one day. Thank you for the reminder of how beautiful a scarcity of words can be, when all that needs to be said can be articulated with precision and simplicity.
“Their alchemy turns this paltriness into petals of gold, chequering their wings. It is said that they raise their chicks on nothing but the summer breeze and the shadows of scurrying clouds.”
You’ve painted a living tapestry with your words. Though I have never lived near your land. The names alone are beautiful, the fells and dales. I can imagine them now , thank you. I can follow the Golden Plovers with my eye’s closed, listening intently to your voice.
When I read your words, I see the poetry in them, their heft and weight and balance … but when YOU read the words, I am transported to their world. It’s magic.
Thanks, India. I always used to read aloud to myself to look for rhythms and bugs, but it's fascinating how listening back to a recording adds a whole new dimension to the editing process. We live and we learn :-)
I am instantly transported… back to my long ago home in North Derbyshire, or perhaps I’m mistaken and it was to Ireland that my thoughts are veering? But I think there we had Lapwing and not Plover… so I dash back to Derbyshire and those bleak and barren hills where the wind whistles one tune and the plover know so well the note!
Al way with thanks David. 🙏🏽
I love hearing you read! As a poet, I'm always seeking that one pure word, one that might distill the beauty of the Plover's call. I fail most of the time.
Words like water for a thirsty world 💚
Your words flow and flower across the screen, but today I am listening to your voice as you lure us into the void and loneliness of the high fells, where our voices are meaningless and the golden plover is the timeless story teller and prophet of this place. The spirit of the bare rock, vast sky and 'arthritic' knots of heather. Actually this could make me weep - you have managed to summon a magic that our wild hearts rarely touch on these days. Thank you so much for your sensitive ear and eye - and the sharing of your experiences on your beautiful and ancient home ground.
Thanks, Vanessa. It is good to know that many of us have these places somewhere in our hearts.
Wow that is so rich. Makes me long to hear that plover!
Hi again. Thanks again. I was almost going to put a link to a recording down in a footnote. But its a strange thing - even though there are lots of lovely high quality recordings available they are somehow lacking something when the sound has been extracted from the landscape. I suppose we shouldn’t be surprised at that - but it is something that has made me stop and think.
That may be why I keep recording my own if I'm going to use them, so they aren't "sterilized" with only the one bird.
Thank you, this made an oasis in my evening. A most welcome respite.
Oh, I'm so happy you got a taste of the big sky and emptiness :-)
As others have said before me, your writing is lyrical and magical. Also, the words you use transport me to another place and time, where nature was sacred and mystical. It still is - and you are helping all of us to remember that sacredness. Thank you!
Thanks, Marilynn. I’m glad that some of the joy of it all filters through the words and on out into the world :-)
I listened to this first, a couple of days ago. Your deliberate, thoughtful cadence, the immense respect to each word chosen, woven into images pregnant with spareness and sensuality. Stark contrast to car after car whizzing past on a six lane freeway, morning commuter traffic on a Tuesday while I drove toward a river delta with boardwalks and paths, and birds galore. I've never given much thought to the Christian 'rapture' story, first described by John Nelson Darby, but as I was driving along I suppose I did get a sense of it, finally, transported as I was. And better than their story, at least as it seems, for I was transported to a spare, grassy fastness at the edge of the sky rather than into a cloud stuffed with all manner of the saved and forgiven. I've been grateful more than once now for reading one of your tales. This one did nothing to diminish my gratitude and most certainly increased my awe at the power of a few words placed with such reverential care.
Hi again, David. River deltas - there’s memory-jogger. Such uncompromising places. Glad that the spoken words aren’t jumbling things up. It has been a real pleasure trying to make a fist of that new line of work. All the best to you.
You paint such a crushingly beautiful portrait of a place I’ve never been, I feel something that very closely resembles nostalgia for it. Thank you. I bow.
Hi again, Heather. And thanks for reading some more. Those pre-nostalgia's - they are a treasure trove of possibilities and mysteries, aren't they :-)
Indeed, they are! I’ve heard the Welsh word ‘hiraeth’. I think that may approximate my feelings on this!
I love to close my eyes and be transported into the audio portal of your world ... rich & beautiful... Thank you!
Thanks Katherine, that is kind of you. Welcome to this little bit of Cumbria :-)
WoW. Thank you so much David. Your bedazzling, poetic choice of words conjure up the landscape of the Plover, and indeed the Plover himself in such a compelling way as the tale unfolds and unfurls - is absorbed. To hear you read it, a whole other dimension is revealed and I was spellbound. Pure Magic.
Thanks for reading and feeding back such energy, Carol. The reading for recording is new to me and showing me a whole new way to work. I'll keep trying to get it right :-)
Such beautiful writing! Thank you, David.
Thank you, Kelly. Always such an encouragement :-)
Your words lead me back to a day in the fells in 2014, walking up to the Crinkle Crags, and having a picnic at Blea Tarn. Such beautiful country; I hope to visit it again one day. Thank you for the reminder of how beautiful a scarcity of words can be, when all that needs to be said can be articulated with precision and simplicity.
What beautiful, mythical prose. It nourished my soul in a way that I did not know I needed. Thank you!
Thanks, DANA, that's good to hear :-)
“Their alchemy turns this paltriness into petals of gold, chequering their wings. It is said that they raise their chicks on nothing but the summer breeze and the shadows of scurrying clouds.”
You’ve painted a living tapestry with your words. Though I have never lived near your land. The names alone are beautiful, the fells and dales. I can imagine them now , thank you. I can follow the Golden Plovers with my eye’s closed, listening intently to your voice.
Hi again, Lor. And thanks for coming along to the high places.