I am staring at the blinking blue vertical line, and struggle to write something meaningful. I am in awe of your use of language.
Thank you for this beautiful essay. I read it (and listened) as I finished breakfast and now I’m just sitting here, a smile on my face, looking out to the garden as the morning brightens.
Thank you! I second everything that Sara Santa Clara says in the comment below. That must be the most beautiful piece of writing I have read since Under Milk Wood (which I am sure you also appreciate as I detect some influence). I am beyond ready for you to put all these stunning pieces into a book. When you do I will buy copies for all the people I love.
Ha! Busted :-) I was wondering if I should put a footnote on 'bombazine black', just to show my deep debt and respect for him. But in the end I thought it would look a bit pretentious - and those who knew would know anyway. Thank you for your kindness and attention and encouragement. I'm thinking, slowly and humbly, about how to weave these pieces into some wider setting. But not this year, still writing up my PhD, alas. Should be done by winter. I'll keep brewing in the meantime ;-)
The world seems to be spiraling out of control, and me with it. And then one of your pieces appears, and brings me back into my body. This piece reminds me of a camping trip with my brother, decades ago, somewhere in the Colorado Rockies. We found a spot near a stream with enough room between the trees and bushes to spread out two sleeping bags on the ground, and spent the night. All night long there was skittering all around us. Like cartoon characters racing around, seeing us and screeching to a halt. And then complaining, bitching—“This is our territory, our roadway, what are these giant lumps doing in the spot where we usually hold our nightly gatherings/races/wooings/storytellings? GO AWAY NOW!” I swear sometimes I heard distinct “Hmpfs!” No toads or crawdads or Mayfly nymphs, but chipmunks, pikas, bats, nuthatches, maybe even a deer or two on the outskirts. I still laugh, thinking of it. Lovely memory, thanks.
Hi Lise. Thanks for reading and thinking and sharing your story. And a story begets a story ... I was bivvying in the woods in the hills in southern Germany one night. After I settled in, a Tengmalms owl started calling from one of the trees just above me. Very distinctive call. I was thrilled to bits. We don't have them in the UK and I hadn't ever seen one - still haven't. He kept calling almost non-stop. Lovely ... but. Eventually, bleary-eyed at about midnight I broke camp and went and slept somewhere else. He fell quiet and went about his business :-)
Now I have to see if I can find a recording of a Tengmalms owl! I wonder what he was saying—did he want conversation with you, or did he just want you to leave? These kinds of interactions are so special in our “civilized” world.
Reading and listening to your words is like riding a magic carpet... thank you for bringing such delight to the start of my day. Deeply appreciate your creative talent. Until next time... Be well , shine on , and know your words are appreciated in the world...
Well, you have converted me at last, David; I and my stubborn preference for reading over listening. A delight from beginning to end was this toad-led trip through a gala evening. Imagining into the undercover lives of our nocturnal kin was the first magic; your gift of vivid language, the second; and the third, hearing these satisfying consonants and playful alliterations in your voice filled with laughter. I smile and smile, and leap like a frog. xo
Hello, friend. I see that I'll have to send you some work to do, if you have spare time to listen to me droning on. Maybe some Latin verbs to conjugate or a Shakespearean sonnet to parse. Yes, that would be the medicine ;-)
You've already sent me laughter, and a grin as wide as a proper trout stream, and such gratitude as I cannot possibly describe. But, sure, send forth the sonnet, you delightful goose!
I waited for the moon and the cool evening air - to listen a second time - to nourish the achy soul of todays forgotten tune with your wriggling stars knowing it would whip up a mighty milky way of bliss and calm. Now, I will sleep in the arms of its wake...
You might here me sighing, or even, perhaps gently snoring...
There is the world in which we spend time in office blocks and traffic, buying groceries and attending meetings, in mundane boredom, and there is another world, where we float on the river of the night, face-up, waltzed around on eddies, spinning as gently as a feather falls. Where I am transported to a waking dream of closed lipped toads in waistcoats and aghast minnows - perhaps the same ones that nibbled my toes when I paddled in the river as a child. Thank you for the ride David.
I float on the river of your gorgeous prose David! It’s almost dinner time, and I began reading this with a hungry belly, but upon finishing I feel there’s nothing left to do but lick my fingers. 😉
This is superfluously wonderful and enchanting David! A full technicolour animation of the glorious crepuscular hours. A visceral delight, I had to listen then read aloud myself to feel the magic of the words tantalise the tongue and slip off into the night. Bravo!!
Oh, that's lovely, Racheblue. Words just love to read out loud and I often wonder if they get their heart's desire once they've left me. Thank you for looking after them :-)
I am staring at the blinking blue vertical line, and struggle to write something meaningful. I am in awe of your use of language.
Thank you for this beautiful essay. I read it (and listened) as I finished breakfast and now I’m just sitting here, a smile on my face, looking out to the garden as the morning brightens.
You are so kind, Sara. Thank you. Oh yes! That blinking blue - gives me the shivers, every time ;-)
Thank you! I second everything that Sara Santa Clara says in the comment below. That must be the most beautiful piece of writing I have read since Under Milk Wood (which I am sure you also appreciate as I detect some influence). I am beyond ready for you to put all these stunning pieces into a book. When you do I will buy copies for all the people I love.
Ha! Busted :-) I was wondering if I should put a footnote on 'bombazine black', just to show my deep debt and respect for him. But in the end I thought it would look a bit pretentious - and those who knew would know anyway. Thank you for your kindness and attention and encouragement. I'm thinking, slowly and humbly, about how to weave these pieces into some wider setting. But not this year, still writing up my PhD, alas. Should be done by winter. I'll keep brewing in the meantime ;-)
The world seems to be spiraling out of control, and me with it. And then one of your pieces appears, and brings me back into my body. This piece reminds me of a camping trip with my brother, decades ago, somewhere in the Colorado Rockies. We found a spot near a stream with enough room between the trees and bushes to spread out two sleeping bags on the ground, and spent the night. All night long there was skittering all around us. Like cartoon characters racing around, seeing us and screeching to a halt. And then complaining, bitching—“This is our territory, our roadway, what are these giant lumps doing in the spot where we usually hold our nightly gatherings/races/wooings/storytellings? GO AWAY NOW!” I swear sometimes I heard distinct “Hmpfs!” No toads or crawdads or Mayfly nymphs, but chipmunks, pikas, bats, nuthatches, maybe even a deer or two on the outskirts. I still laugh, thinking of it. Lovely memory, thanks.
Hi Lise. Thanks for reading and thinking and sharing your story. And a story begets a story ... I was bivvying in the woods in the hills in southern Germany one night. After I settled in, a Tengmalms owl started calling from one of the trees just above me. Very distinctive call. I was thrilled to bits. We don't have them in the UK and I hadn't ever seen one - still haven't. He kept calling almost non-stop. Lovely ... but. Eventually, bleary-eyed at about midnight I broke camp and went and slept somewhere else. He fell quiet and went about his business :-)
Now I have to see if I can find a recording of a Tengmalms owl! I wonder what he was saying—did he want conversation with you, or did he just want you to leave? These kinds of interactions are so special in our “civilized” world.
Reading and listening to your words is like riding a magic carpet... thank you for bringing such delight to the start of my day. Deeply appreciate your creative talent. Until next time... Be well , shine on , and know your words are appreciated in the world...
Thanks, Katherine, you are kind to take the time for a quick flight before breakfast ;-)
Well, you have converted me at last, David; I and my stubborn preference for reading over listening. A delight from beginning to end was this toad-led trip through a gala evening. Imagining into the undercover lives of our nocturnal kin was the first magic; your gift of vivid language, the second; and the third, hearing these satisfying consonants and playful alliterations in your voice filled with laughter. I smile and smile, and leap like a frog. xo
Wonderful playful piece. I was transported immediately. Tonight I shall look out for a toad of my own. Who blinks. But only rarely.
Hi morgan. Thanks for taking the time again. I'm sure there's a toad out there somewhere for all of us :-)
Awesome writing, so rarely seen.
Thank you, Janisse, that is kind and generous. Words - we so often treat them like the small change in our pockets. They deserve a bit more TLC :-)
Three times now, listening...
across the day,
and still.
The first two, reading along.
This last, eyes closed and head back.
Off to bed now while it remains in my ears.
Dream stuff, this.
And I, achey for that eddy's waltz...
Hello, friend. I see that I'll have to send you some work to do, if you have spare time to listen to me droning on. Maybe some Latin verbs to conjugate or a Shakespearean sonnet to parse. Yes, that would be the medicine ;-)
You've already sent me laughter, and a grin as wide as a proper trout stream, and such gratitude as I cannot possibly describe. But, sure, send forth the sonnet, you delightful goose!
Delightful word and image play. Full of wonder, surprises, and gems. Thanks for the smiles.
Thanks Julie. Don't know how you find the time. Best of luck with The Future of Nature :-)
I think the time finds me?
What a delight to dive into, your words swirl about me like rivers of moonlight!
Thanks, Mimmi, it's kind of you to take dip :-)
Thank you again. I delete loads of emails unread, but never yours. Never. Too rich a repast for the soul awaits tucked inside each one. Yum.
Hi Laurie, hope all's well. It's good to pass around a few sandwiches at the picnic of place :-)
Such beautiful and playful images! And listening to you read this piece is magical. Bravo on a brilliant piece of writing!
Thanks Evelyn, that is kind of you. 'Playful' is a lovely word to read in a review :-)
I waited for the moon and the cool evening air - to listen a second time - to nourish the achy soul of todays forgotten tune with your wriggling stars knowing it would whip up a mighty milky way of bliss and calm. Now, I will sleep in the arms of its wake...
You might here me sighing, or even, perhaps gently snoring...
Ha! There's always a lovely orchestra of sighing and snoring deep in the night. I'm sure the conductor has an eye on you for the big performances :-)
There is the world in which we spend time in office blocks and traffic, buying groceries and attending meetings, in mundane boredom, and there is another world, where we float on the river of the night, face-up, waltzed around on eddies, spinning as gently as a feather falls. Where I am transported to a waking dream of closed lipped toads in waistcoats and aghast minnows - perhaps the same ones that nibbled my toes when I paddled in the river as a child. Thank you for the ride David.
Heavens. Toe-nibbling minnows. There's a dreamy love, the feel of which is rare and fine. Almost unimaginable in these days of shoes and socks :-)
I float on the river of your gorgeous prose David! It’s almost dinner time, and I began reading this with a hungry belly, but upon finishing I feel there’s nothing left to do but lick my fingers. 😉
Hi Kimberly, hope all's well with you. It's always good to see the plates empty after dinner :-)
This is superfluously wonderful and enchanting David! A full technicolour animation of the glorious crepuscular hours. A visceral delight, I had to listen then read aloud myself to feel the magic of the words tantalise the tongue and slip off into the night. Bravo!!
Oh, that's lovely, Racheblue. Words just love to read out loud and I often wonder if they get their heart's desire once they've left me. Thank you for looking after them :-)