I love the way you write, David...and have but one request. Might you consider also recording your words (audibly in addition to the legible form)? That way you could read us all to sleep of an evening...frankly one of life's great luxuries (and what marvellous influences your stories would be for dreamers around the whirld).
Thanks for reading again, India. That's a coincidence - I was giving the piece the last of a hundred out-loud read-throughs before daring to press the button and I thought that if only I could stop fluffing my lines I might just record them. One of the pieces of art I rate most highly in the whole wide world is the recording of Richard Burton reading Under Milk Wood. Sadly I'll never write like Thomas or speak like Burton - but, hey, I'll give it a go sometime and let you know :-)
I‘ll confess I find it a little tricky myself, especially when reading some of the longer sentences in which I seem to lose myself, as i never know where to breathe. Recording my words has given me profound respect for the readers of audio-books! And as for Mr Burton and Under Milk Wood, I agree. Utterly swoonworthy.
Driving home from university in 1999 I heard Alan Rickman performing in a play of Les Liaisons Dangereuses on the car radio. His voice dripped from the speakers like melted butter. I’ve searched the internet but never found an accessible recording…if you (or any of your readers) are familiar with that and able to direct me to a source I would be profoundly grateful!
Oh, gracious, seek not to be Richard, no need! Your words are rich enough that the frogs in your bucket could carry them to glory. (Not to compare you to a frog!) Thank you for your lovely writing, and reading. As the American-born daughter of an Irish father, it’s so nice to hear the lilt of your words.
I do so hope you will gather these together into a book David. Yes, the subject matter is magical, but the way you write about it is breathtaking. Literally. I hesitate to gush because it would embarrass both of us, but oh my gosh!
Hope, you are very generous. Many miles to travel before I've the craft for a book - but I'll enjoy walking the funny old bye-ways and be satisfied wherever I end up :-)
So happy to start the day by reading your work. I don't know why it moves me so, but it does. Maybe because it's peaceful, comforting, and uplifting, reminding me not to overlook the small moments that are really what life is all about. Many thanks!
Love this piece of descriptive writing, it's poetry to me and also full of nature's wonders. I had a toad in my garden one day a couple of years ago, I almost trod on him,he was so well camouflaged. He hopped onto the toe of my boot and I was stuck to the spot for about 10min's, I didn't want him to go because I was mesmerized by his colors and patterning on his skin..and how well he blended into the surrounding area. When he did finally hop away, I was surprised at how quickly and how fast he moved .
Nature is so full of unseen beauty that we as humans take for granted, some not even given it any thought or interest in it You are very lucky to have that privilage of beening able to immerse yourself in helping nature survive.
David, I love the way you carry this bucketload of words. The way they slosh around with the mud-spatters and the green things is a homely delight. Your ghostly treasure flitted all the way to Idaho in the western U.S.A. in the lustrous night. Thank you for the magic. 🐸
This happens here in Maine too, the first really warm rainy night in the spring. All the amphibians - frogs, toads, salamanders in their thousands - start migrating across the local roads looking for mates and the ponds in which they lay their eggs. I've had this exact experience on countless spring nights over the decades: a bucket that sings and a broken heart from the relentless carnage on the roads.
I know what your burden is. The same as mine. Being a man in a world where the ravenous man-made machine devours the souls and bodies of Gaia, of all the women and their children dwelling in the Natural World. Yeah. Right there with ya Brother...
The echoes of the land telling stories. Though the heron plays only a minor role, she sets the scene, and returns in thought, just at the right moment.
This is an odyssey of one night. An enchanted fable of old. Complete with many interwoven tales and a moral of the story at close.
Your writing . All of it. Is just beautiful. I did not want it to end. So many favorites, if I had to choose, it would be this;
“And remembering that life is short all the frogs join in on the chorus. The toads tap their toes and count themselves in on rhythm at the end of a bar. By the time I reach the edge of the pond the whole bucketload is singing.”
"Toads smile their unending smiles..." as did I, reading this moonlit fairy tale. How the lane loves, a ghost ushers the singers home, and acts of love save us again from hopelessness. Such spells can only be cast in darkness. xo
Thanks so much for reading again, Carmine. You're right - there does seem to be some hidden source of goodness right under our noses, in the darkness that so many of us have been taught to banish and avoid.
I love the way you write, David...and have but one request. Might you consider also recording your words (audibly in addition to the legible form)? That way you could read us all to sleep of an evening...frankly one of life's great luxuries (and what marvellous influences your stories would be for dreamers around the whirld).
Thanks for reading again, India. That's a coincidence - I was giving the piece the last of a hundred out-loud read-throughs before daring to press the button and I thought that if only I could stop fluffing my lines I might just record them. One of the pieces of art I rate most highly in the whole wide world is the recording of Richard Burton reading Under Milk Wood. Sadly I'll never write like Thomas or speak like Burton - but, hey, I'll give it a go sometime and let you know :-)
I‘ll confess I find it a little tricky myself, especially when reading some of the longer sentences in which I seem to lose myself, as i never know where to breathe. Recording my words has given me profound respect for the readers of audio-books! And as for Mr Burton and Under Milk Wood, I agree. Utterly swoonworthy.
Driving home from university in 1999 I heard Alan Rickman performing in a play of Les Liaisons Dangereuses on the car radio. His voice dripped from the speakers like melted butter. I’ve searched the internet but never found an accessible recording…if you (or any of your readers) are familiar with that and able to direct me to a source I would be profoundly grateful!
Oh, gracious, seek not to be Richard, no need! Your words are rich enough that the frogs in your bucket could carry them to glory. (Not to compare you to a frog!) Thank you for your lovely writing, and reading. As the American-born daughter of an Irish father, it’s so nice to hear the lilt of your words.
That’s very kind of you, Marie Josette. Thanks
I do so hope you will gather these together into a book David. Yes, the subject matter is magical, but the way you write about it is breathtaking. Literally. I hesitate to gush because it would embarrass both of us, but oh my gosh!
Hope, you are very generous. Many miles to travel before I've the craft for a book - but I'll enjoy walking the funny old bye-ways and be satisfied wherever I end up :-)
gush away, Hope...we can make a duet of it, though perhaps not so musical as the frogs!
I would say you did a fine job as it is! Looking forward to more!
Love the audio! It really takes things up a notch! Thanks!
The tender care of nature - ! enjoyed the read.
You are such a wonderful writer. Laughed all the way through it. Thanks for the laugh and for sharing with us mere mortals.
Beautiful, thoughtful and uplifting writing. Thank you!
So happy to start the day by reading your work. I don't know why it moves me so, but it does. Maybe because it's peaceful, comforting, and uplifting, reminding me not to overlook the small moments that are really what life is all about. Many thanks!
David, I noticed someone else has suggested what I wanted to and that is to bring all your wonderful pieces together for publication!
Well, that's very kind of you. I'll keep tracking them down and see where they go :-)
Please do David. I for one would buy it
May your bucket sing forever and the winds of Mallerstang add you to the valley's long history as a true knight to Gaia's sons and daughters!
You are so kind, as always. But I'm sure Mallerstang requires many more years of faithful service before I get a look-in ;-)
Love this piece of descriptive writing, it's poetry to me and also full of nature's wonders. I had a toad in my garden one day a couple of years ago, I almost trod on him,he was so well camouflaged. He hopped onto the toe of my boot and I was stuck to the spot for about 10min's, I didn't want him to go because I was mesmerized by his colors and patterning on his skin..and how well he blended into the surrounding area. When he did finally hop away, I was surprised at how quickly and how fast he moved .
Nature is so full of unseen beauty that we as humans take for granted, some not even given it any thought or interest in it You are very lucky to have that privilage of beening able to immerse yourself in helping nature survive.
Thanks, Veronica. You and your toad - both lucky, both with a story to tell for a lifetime.
David, I love the way you carry this bucketload of words. The way they slosh around with the mud-spatters and the green things is a homely delight. Your ghostly treasure flitted all the way to Idaho in the western U.S.A. in the lustrous night. Thank you for the magic. 🐸
That's very kind of you, Tara. I hope the mud didn't get on the rugs and all. But as my mum used to say 'mud is good clean dirt' :-)
This happens here in Maine too, the first really warm rainy night in the spring. All the amphibians - frogs, toads, salamanders in their thousands - start migrating across the local roads looking for mates and the ponds in which they lay their eggs. I've had this exact experience on countless spring nights over the decades: a bucket that sings and a broken heart from the relentless carnage on the roads.
I know what your burden is. The same as mine. Being a man in a world where the ravenous man-made machine devours the souls and bodies of Gaia, of all the women and their children dwelling in the Natural World. Yeah. Right there with ya Brother...
Thanks for reading. May your bucket always sing :-)
The echoes of the land telling stories. Though the heron plays only a minor role, she sets the scene, and returns in thought, just at the right moment.
This is an odyssey of one night. An enchanted fable of old. Complete with many interwoven tales and a moral of the story at close.
Your writing . All of it. Is just beautiful. I did not want it to end. So many favorites, if I had to choose, it would be this;
“And remembering that life is short all the frogs join in on the chorus. The toads tap their toes and count themselves in on rhythm at the end of a bar. By the time I reach the edge of the pond the whole bucketload is singing.”
You are very generous. Thank you. That old heron, she runs the show - but she keeps out of the limelight for the most part :-)
Wonderful, and thank you so much for recording - you have a great voice 😁
Thanks, Louise. I’ll keep working at it and see if I can bring some others to life :-)
"Toads smile their unending smiles..." as did I, reading this moonlit fairy tale. How the lane loves, a ghost ushers the singers home, and acts of love save us again from hopelessness. Such spells can only be cast in darkness. xo
Thanks so much for reading again, Carmine. You're right - there does seem to be some hidden source of goodness right under our noses, in the darkness that so many of us have been taught to banish and avoid.