“We are uneasy, uncertain. There is something so vulnerable about being in water, adrift, and this noise is thrumming a warning into our bodies, telling us to be alert.”
“ And then the noise shakes and shudders through me: a clap, a boom, an explosion.”
I know how it makes me feel, but I often wonder what it must be like , how all the creatures of our planet experience an incoming storm, on land or under water. I believe you just described it, each in their own unique existence, most likely feel the same.
“…every moment is a flitting, fleeting thing”
Wonder, elation, thrill , laughter and joy. Moments like these are what we live for, how we survive the ones that are terrifying. I listened this morning as I hiked deep into the forest of Vermont, a world far away from the wide open sky and endless shorelines where water and land blur at the seams. Thank you for sharing your stunning narration. I walked on, mesmerized and smiling, moments of ocean mixed with the cool shade of lush green and birdsong. What an amazing combination.
oh I love the image of you wandering in the Vermont greenery with the music of birds surrounding you, all the while having half a mind in the orkney islands. Thank you for this beautiful comment x
My god, your writing is BREATHTAKING. No, literally - I held my breath - I'm glad the piece wasn't longer. 😂 Wow wow wow. Thank you so much for this experience. I was right there with you. 🙏❤️
Spellbinding and evocative, Rebecca. The swallow, the badger, the storm. Watching the rain arrive is such a surreal experience (and rare here, where it is much less open and harder to see) but I have experienced it a few times, and it is humbling to witness this wonder. There are swallows down the lane, that flit and swoop low under the old oak and and across the fields and back, and gather on the telegraph wires in the autumn for their journey south. And while I have seen them from above as they can swoop so low, I have never been close to a swallow perched upon the ground, but to hear you describe the magic of it, is a gift.
ahh and a gift in return, Emily, imagining your swallows swooping under the old oak. I was thinking of the video of your gaggle of nestlings today, as the swallows in our garage fledged this morning. I hope your little houseguests fared well this season xx
Such a wonder to experience fledging swallows. Alas the nests remained empty this year - both the blackbirds and wrens found alternative lodgings, but still close, I think. There was a nest of greater spotted woodpecker in the huge Norway spruce behind our garden though, I think, as I spotted several fledglings, which was an absolute delight 💛
Just beautiful. Wordsworth's spots of time, imbued with deep feeling. Not swallows but some time ago now, I had the privilege of hand-raising four house martins. One was so very tiny. In time, the first three were released, the tiniest fourth a week later. The three were waiting for their sibling and joined it, a reunion in the morning air. Swallows, swifts, martins, so magical and ephemeral. Your beautiful writing always evokes such memories in me, Rebecca, thank you.
A perfect story, almost like going through a birth canal. Holding “the morning a tangle of peace and panic” in one full breath, like one full life. With a throughline of blue, rending and mending this part of me that wants resolution but knows beauty lives because there isn’t one. 🙏
Dave wrote about this today, that nothing lasts, not even the things we think of as lasting-so-much-longer than ourselves, like the sun. This used to frighten me, but now I find comfort in it. At least, I do right now. Lovely, lovely writing as always. I looking forward to reading your fiction.
I ebb and flow between finding fear and comfort in it... it is difficult, I think, to fully grasp the idea of impermanence isn't it? And thank you, that means a lot!! ❤️
Oh I was spellbound with every word and was holding my breath as you were legging it across the beach and when you were swallowing your excitement for the badger, I recognize that feeling from the few badger hides we’ve done. As you say the reward is worth the frustration. :) such evocative and rich writing Rebecca, inspiring! Thank you 🙏🏼💚
I felt the 'boom', I worried about the 'rumble'. I was imagining a huge ocean creature caught up in some kind of perilous moment. My mind was afraid for you both, thinking about the possibilites while being under water (considering that I am afraid in deep water- possibly because I almost drowned when I was two).
I can't even imagine what thunder sounds like when you are under water!
The swallow-such a beautiful winged creature!
Beautiful words you write, always fill my imagination with what you see and feel and share.
As a young person I worked for a biologist on Florida's Lake Okeechobee (730 square miles of alligators, lotus patches and the endangered Everglades Snail Kite). Far from shore we'd watch a single cloud grow into a menacing horizon wide black anvil. We'd count the seconds between lightning strikes and thunder knowing we were the tallest thing for miles and talk of heading in until the rain fell so hard it was blinding. Sitting there in an open airboat being pelted and humbled I first fell in love with the natural world in all it's extremes - thank you for all you conjure on that blessed isle of yours.
The wide black anvil -- what an image!! and that sounds like an incredible experience. I too love being caught in the elements - reminded of how small we are. It is hard not to fall in love with the natural world in those moments, I think.
I was breathless getting out of that water with you! Such rich, sensory descriptions of the scene. This whole essay crackles with sight and smell and shadow. Beautiful, thank you!
“We are uneasy, uncertain. There is something so vulnerable about being in water, adrift, and this noise is thrumming a warning into our bodies, telling us to be alert.”
“ And then the noise shakes and shudders through me: a clap, a boom, an explosion.”
I know how it makes me feel, but I often wonder what it must be like , how all the creatures of our planet experience an incoming storm, on land or under water. I believe you just described it, each in their own unique existence, most likely feel the same.
“…every moment is a flitting, fleeting thing”
Wonder, elation, thrill , laughter and joy. Moments like these are what we live for, how we survive the ones that are terrifying. I listened this morning as I hiked deep into the forest of Vermont, a world far away from the wide open sky and endless shorelines where water and land blur at the seams. Thank you for sharing your stunning narration. I walked on, mesmerized and smiling, moments of ocean mixed with the cool shade of lush green and birdsong. What an amazing combination.
oh I love the image of you wandering in the Vermont greenery with the music of birds surrounding you, all the while having half a mind in the orkney islands. Thank you for this beautiful comment x
My god, your writing is BREATHTAKING. No, literally - I held my breath - I'm glad the piece wasn't longer. 😂 Wow wow wow. Thank you so much for this experience. I was right there with you. 🙏❤️
Haha! Thank you so much ❤️
Spellbinding and evocative, Rebecca. The swallow, the badger, the storm. Watching the rain arrive is such a surreal experience (and rare here, where it is much less open and harder to see) but I have experienced it a few times, and it is humbling to witness this wonder. There are swallows down the lane, that flit and swoop low under the old oak and and across the fields and back, and gather on the telegraph wires in the autumn for their journey south. And while I have seen them from above as they can swoop so low, I have never been close to a swallow perched upon the ground, but to hear you describe the magic of it, is a gift.
ahh and a gift in return, Emily, imagining your swallows swooping under the old oak. I was thinking of the video of your gaggle of nestlings today, as the swallows in our garage fledged this morning. I hope your little houseguests fared well this season xx
Such a wonder to experience fledging swallows. Alas the nests remained empty this year - both the blackbirds and wrens found alternative lodgings, but still close, I think. There was a nest of greater spotted woodpecker in the huge Norway spruce behind our garden though, I think, as I spotted several fledglings, which was an absolute delight 💛
Just beautiful. Wordsworth's spots of time, imbued with deep feeling. Not swallows but some time ago now, I had the privilege of hand-raising four house martins. One was so very tiny. In time, the first three were released, the tiniest fourth a week later. The three were waiting for their sibling and joined it, a reunion in the morning air. Swallows, swifts, martins, so magical and ephemeral. Your beautiful writing always evokes such memories in me, Rebecca, thank you.
oh this makes me so happy! what a gorgeous thing to do - to save them, and to see them wait for number four before flying wild together. precious x
Just beautiful, breathtaking writing. With you every second.
thank you! ❤️
Goodness... for a moment I though it was an oil rig explosion! Love when birds trust us enough to come close, even for a moment.
this was at the back of my mind - so the thunder (once we were out of the ocean) was quite a relief! thank you for reading x
A perfect story, almost like going through a birth canal. Holding “the morning a tangle of peace and panic” in one full breath, like one full life. With a throughline of blue, rending and mending this part of me that wants resolution but knows beauty lives because there isn’t one. 🙏
'beauty lives because there isn't one' ahhhh yes, you have put it so perfectly - as you always do ❤️
Wow, so beautiful and evocative … bliss. I listened… a mediation 🙏💙😊
thank you so much, Simone ❤️
Dave wrote about this today, that nothing lasts, not even the things we think of as lasting-so-much-longer than ourselves, like the sun. This used to frighten me, but now I find comfort in it. At least, I do right now. Lovely, lovely writing as always. I looking forward to reading your fiction.
I ebb and flow between finding fear and comfort in it... it is difficult, I think, to fully grasp the idea of impermanence isn't it? And thank you, that means a lot!! ❤️
Oh I was spellbound with every word and was holding my breath as you were legging it across the beach and when you were swallowing your excitement for the badger, I recognize that feeling from the few badger hides we’ve done. As you say the reward is worth the frustration. :) such evocative and rich writing Rebecca, inspiring! Thank you 🙏🏼💚
thank you so much, Vic, this means a lot! And so glad you've had your own swallow-your-excitement badger moments ❤️
We are all united here in our instinctual desire to admire your beautiful talent.
How lovely. And your watercolor captures your connection perfectly.
❤️❤️❤️
Beautiful!
Thank you!
I felt the 'boom', I worried about the 'rumble'. I was imagining a huge ocean creature caught up in some kind of perilous moment. My mind was afraid for you both, thinking about the possibilites while being under water (considering that I am afraid in deep water- possibly because I almost drowned when I was two).
I can't even imagine what thunder sounds like when you are under water!
The swallow-such a beautiful winged creature!
Beautiful words you write, always fill my imagination with what you see and feel and share.
Thank you Rebecca.
Thank you Jeannine, I am so glad you felt this piece within you and you came along for the (hopefully not too adrenaline-pumping) journey ❤️
No worries! Your writing always brings me somewhere I need to go. 🥰
Incredibly evocative and tone-perfect, as usual
Thank you so much, John!
As a young person I worked for a biologist on Florida's Lake Okeechobee (730 square miles of alligators, lotus patches and the endangered Everglades Snail Kite). Far from shore we'd watch a single cloud grow into a menacing horizon wide black anvil. We'd count the seconds between lightning strikes and thunder knowing we were the tallest thing for miles and talk of heading in until the rain fell so hard it was blinding. Sitting there in an open airboat being pelted and humbled I first fell in love with the natural world in all it's extremes - thank you for all you conjure on that blessed isle of yours.
The wide black anvil -- what an image!! and that sounds like an incredible experience. I too love being caught in the elements - reminded of how small we are. It is hard not to fall in love with the natural world in those moments, I think.
I was breathless getting out of that water with you! Such rich, sensory descriptions of the scene. This whole essay crackles with sight and smell and shadow. Beautiful, thank you!
Oh thank you Kendall, so glad you enjoyed it!