Dear Susie, I am slow in reading and slower still in writing back these past weeks, but I am never unenthralled reading of whispered prayers of thistledown, Such beautiful writing always, transporting me to your hill beside you as you wander ✨💛
Never worry dear Emily, I too am behind in my reading here and, as you see, replies too... I think it is a given here on Substack and thank goodness!
The thistledown has been mowed down by the farmer, not soon enough for my garden but after all I've said I miss all that gorgeous fluff, although when the seeds begin to germinate and new plants emerge next winter you will likely hear my cursing across the sea!
Thank you for always reading lovely, enjoy these last days of summer, I have but five days left before classes begin again and honestly have no idea where eight weeks have gone! 💛x
I think it is perfect how we can read and respond back and forth without the pressure of worry that we’re too slow here. What a perfect place this is for exchanging letters with friends 💛 I return to work on Monday a free being off this last week and I am doing my best to savour the slow and quiet (although all the jobs I should be doing while I’m off are stacking up behind me!) sending love for your last few days of summer ✨
Love back Emily, enjoy your free time... I have given up worrying about all the jobs I should be doing before Monday - life is too short and precious. The jobs will be done in the end whether we worry or not!
"What a perfect place this is for exchanging letters with friends 💛" I couldn't agree more, almost like traditional snail mail, without having to queue at the PO for a stamp - its perfect! xx
I have been a neglectful reader, despite the time on my hands, over the past few weeks, but it was lovely to begin catching up by reading your words Susie. As ever, you gift us the feeling of being alongside you on the hill, tangled in brambles or smothered in thistledown. I hope the heat abates, it’s too cool here for my liking and if it wasn’t so awkward I might reach for a pair of socks! Xx
And I neglectful in replying Vanessa! Somehow I missed the last eight on this post which I only spied yesterday because a new one appeared! and thank goodness it did!
The heat left us in beautiful cool, almost autumn for a few days but now, just as my holiday comes to a close (where oh where did all that time go) the temperatures have risen to sticky and breathless heights again making the thought of classes on Monday unbearable!
I do hope you're recovering well lovely, you will have to ask your husband to put socks on chilly toes! xx
"I asked politely, that the wind change direction, I asked quietly and loudly too, the wind listened, for a while, but the thistles just laughed and fluffed up their heads, they do not understand my language and I am barely a novice in theirs."
Just lovely, Susie. Wonderful to see from dawn to dusk through your eyes. Stunning photos as always. A shame about the tractor noise, though.
Belated thanks Nathan, I liked that sentence too, though I wish I wasn't quite such a novice in thistle talk!
The conductor of the tractor noise and quad bike antics has taken his annual holiday, my hill is quiet for a few days and by the time he returns, I will be back in classes to different noise - I am not enthralled by the idea but... needs must and all!
Debs!! There you are... I was thinking and wondering only yesterday where you had disappeared to? And thank goodness I had a late comment here or I would have missed this altogether! How are you lovely?
Many thanks for reading I do hope summer has been glorious for you 🥰
“soul hope” ! I love this so much. Imagine if humans were only capable of soul hope, not wishes for fancier this or bigger that, but for harmony and beauty and goodness to sustain and remain.
My dearest Susie, I join you with those thistles. So exquisitely beautiful (and yes David, essential!) but when they appeared along the perimeter of a multi-year project to turn an old dog run into a wildflower pollinator garden, I had to pull most of them lest we grow only a thistle garden.:)
I imagine 'soul hope' often Kimberly, I imagine a world content to live from the land they live on, feeding their families together in small harmonious communities with no fear of war or famine, no fear of genocide caused by powerful people who have no souls. If only...
Hmm yes, thistles, I try to love them, indeed actually do when they glimmer and glisten in the tangerine light of sunrise or sunset but... you will hear me cursing from there next spring when the laborious and backbreaking task of digging out all those that have germinated in my field begins!
Since I wrote this post the farmer has come with his giant machine and mowed them all down... 'too little, too late' came the cry! Sending late summer love - I have but five days left before classes - where did eight weeks go! x♡x
Mary Beth, Thank you so much, my humblest apologies for this horribly late reply. Coincidentally, I have just reread Julie's beautiful story too, I think second time was even more beautiful!
It’s strange to say that this letter was a soothing balm, considering the truths the being told, and yet I am calmed once more by your beautiful writing and warm witnessing. Thanks
I'm really very glad you felt the 'soothing' in these words Jonathan, you are perceptive though... whilst I try to hide the sadnesses I wouldn't be honest if I disregarded them altogether - this year summer has been sad and yet, still I pray for a prolongation, in hope that there is time for the wrongs to be righted, and, after all, an Indian summer is almost more delightful don't you think?
An Indian summer, that was nice, I haven’t heard that expression for ages (one of the peculiarities of living as a second language speaker, you must have the same I guess).
Yep, keep it coming as long as possible I say, there’ll be no Birkenstocks soon enough up here, and I’ll miss the simplicity of the warmth. But I do love the winter though, there’s something about a snow clad landscape that excites the soul :)
Oh what poetry Susie. Stunning words and beautiful photos to accompany.
I love your little thistle poem. I also read David's piece on thistles which I loved, but yes I can imagine that the fluff gets everywhere. Smiling as I think of you sitting by your noisy fan with thistle fluff in your hair. 😊 xx
Thank you Jo, every time I see a thistle, which is often, I think of that letter of Davids too. The weight of guilt is a heavy burden so I did a little research in my Herbal remedies bible, Mrs M Grieve's A Modern Herbal (which is about as far from modern as you can get but still used by most herbalists and found online in its entirety) turns out its pretty much a miracle plant! I knew of Milk Thistle cures but not the rest... so now I just need to find the time to harvest them before thistledown!
Thistles so magical down flying high in the vale. Scattered seeds to ensure life continues within an inch of space found in a niche. A medicinal herb that cures ills. A tea leaf surprise to read at bottom of a cup. A love to hate and swallow with the birds that fly. Oh the natural ways wind in circuitous paths . Frost will arrive again soon. Leaves fall colors in the full harvest moon. Sit at the desk. Take all these scenes in as i have enjoyed the journey with you.
I come to a standstill and changing my course decide to research this forbidden plant,(by law in many countries), for it is said that thistles will take over a country, cover the land and stifle ecology faster than the shooting stars sent from Cassiopeia. My findings are great though - how can I hate such a curative plant? I find I cannot!
Richard, Thank you for your beautiful poetic reminder that all things have reason to be.
I can feel the breath of the morning land cool , all the way across the ocean. Intoxicating to you, contagious to me. Here in Vermont , a handful of orange tinged leaves 🍁 bring rumor that Autumn is on its way.
I experience the same unexpected silence on my morning hike. Too quiet, too soon for our birds to leave. We watched in awe, as the Loons begin to teach their young to take off and land on the lake. As I write, a week has passed, and they are now circling, flying and landing with ease. A literal rite of passage.
One thistledown stands lonely amongst the goldenrods and St John’s wort. Can you imagine, just one…
All of your words today (and always) are transporting, absorbed in beautiful ways. And you included a line from one of my favorite Frost poems. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll just sit here on your hill, just a while longer.
OH Lor, autumn whispers its presence here too, the greens are no longer vibrant, my garden, now, faded by the effort to remain colourful and I know summer is crossing, tired sunburnt arms as if to say, 'my work is done'. I wish the days to more slowly pass for this has been too short a time.
My one regret of living on this hill is that there is no body of water large enough to attract water birds, there is a lake in the crook between this hill and the next but overshadowed by land on three sides it is not enticing, escape routes are few. A swan occasionally braves a landing and a few Mallard duck, even the heron is cautious.
I envy your Loons, I envy your watching them. I am imagining myself there with you... if you don't mind of course xx
After going through turmoil in my younger years, I returned to my childhood home and took to wandering the woods. It healed my soul. Reading your letter today reminded me of those days. I think I will revisit those woods again soon. Thank you for the inspiration and sharing your beautifully written letter!
Diana you make me feel that my words are not in vane, I am so happy to hear that they inspired you to return to a place of healing, please, if you feel like sharing your finds, do email me - I would love to hear of your woodland wanders. Thank you so much for reading ♡
Many thanks Jan, The thistles are an on going nightmare, I could have cried the other morning when I saw that carpet of fluff adorning my field! In Ireland there is an old law which still stands about allowing thistles to grow in fields - it is a punishable offence - though likely not upheld. Hey ho.. forearmed is forewarned right! xx
I have been grubbing out the oceans of scotch thistles that drift over from my neighbour for over thirty years. It’s good exercise, I suppose. I leave the roots of milk thistles in place though, sharing the tops with my hens, a pet rabbit and my salad bowl.
Maybe you need a machete for Christmas
The farmer came with his tractor in the end, 'too little too late' came the cry!
Dear Susie, I am slow in reading and slower still in writing back these past weeks, but I am never unenthralled reading of whispered prayers of thistledown, Such beautiful writing always, transporting me to your hill beside you as you wander ✨💛
Never worry dear Emily, I too am behind in my reading here and, as you see, replies too... I think it is a given here on Substack and thank goodness!
The thistledown has been mowed down by the farmer, not soon enough for my garden but after all I've said I miss all that gorgeous fluff, although when the seeds begin to germinate and new plants emerge next winter you will likely hear my cursing across the sea!
Thank you for always reading lovely, enjoy these last days of summer, I have but five days left before classes begin again and honestly have no idea where eight weeks have gone! 💛x
I think it is perfect how we can read and respond back and forth without the pressure of worry that we’re too slow here. What a perfect place this is for exchanging letters with friends 💛 I return to work on Monday a free being off this last week and I am doing my best to savour the slow and quiet (although all the jobs I should be doing while I’m off are stacking up behind me!) sending love for your last few days of summer ✨
Love back Emily, enjoy your free time... I have given up worrying about all the jobs I should be doing before Monday - life is too short and precious. The jobs will be done in the end whether we worry or not!
"What a perfect place this is for exchanging letters with friends 💛" I couldn't agree more, almost like traditional snail mail, without having to queue at the PO for a stamp - its perfect! xx
I have been a neglectful reader, despite the time on my hands, over the past few weeks, but it was lovely to begin catching up by reading your words Susie. As ever, you gift us the feeling of being alongside you on the hill, tangled in brambles or smothered in thistledown. I hope the heat abates, it’s too cool here for my liking and if it wasn’t so awkward I might reach for a pair of socks! Xx
And I neglectful in replying Vanessa! Somehow I missed the last eight on this post which I only spied yesterday because a new one appeared! and thank goodness it did!
The heat left us in beautiful cool, almost autumn for a few days but now, just as my holiday comes to a close (where oh where did all that time go) the temperatures have risen to sticky and breathless heights again making the thought of classes on Monday unbearable!
I do hope you're recovering well lovely, you will have to ask your husband to put socks on chilly toes! xx
"I asked politely, that the wind change direction, I asked quietly and loudly too, the wind listened, for a while, but the thistles just laughed and fluffed up their heads, they do not understand my language and I am barely a novice in theirs."
Just lovely, Susie. Wonderful to see from dawn to dusk through your eyes. Stunning photos as always. A shame about the tractor noise, though.
Belated thanks Nathan, I liked that sentence too, though I wish I wasn't quite such a novice in thistle talk!
The conductor of the tractor noise and quad bike antics has taken his annual holiday, my hill is quiet for a few days and by the time he returns, I will be back in classes to different noise - I am not enthralled by the idea but... needs must and all!
Delightful words and images, as always Susie 🥰
Debs!! There you are... I was thinking and wondering only yesterday where you had disappeared to? And thank goodness I had a late comment here or I would have missed this altogether! How are you lovely?
Many thanks for reading I do hope summer has been glorious for you 🥰
“soul hope” ! I love this so much. Imagine if humans were only capable of soul hope, not wishes for fancier this or bigger that, but for harmony and beauty and goodness to sustain and remain.
My dearest Susie, I join you with those thistles. So exquisitely beautiful (and yes David, essential!) but when they appeared along the perimeter of a multi-year project to turn an old dog run into a wildflower pollinator garden, I had to pull most of them lest we grow only a thistle garden.:)
I imagine 'soul hope' often Kimberly, I imagine a world content to live from the land they live on, feeding their families together in small harmonious communities with no fear of war or famine, no fear of genocide caused by powerful people who have no souls. If only...
Hmm yes, thistles, I try to love them, indeed actually do when they glimmer and glisten in the tangerine light of sunrise or sunset but... you will hear me cursing from there next spring when the laborious and backbreaking task of digging out all those that have germinated in my field begins!
Since I wrote this post the farmer has come with his giant machine and mowed them all down... 'too little, too late' came the cry! Sending late summer love - I have but five days left before classes - where did eight weeks go! x♡x
On the days when I can't go on a walk I can still read about yours, and it does me so much good!
And it does me so much good to know that Anna, horribly belated thanks!
Beautiful. I love the gentle way you play with light in your photos. And totally agree about Julie Gabrielli's piece!
Mary Beth, Thank you so much, my humblest apologies for this horribly late reply. Coincidentally, I have just reread Julie's beautiful story too, I think second time was even more beautiful!
It’s strange to say that this letter was a soothing balm, considering the truths the being told, and yet I am calmed once more by your beautiful writing and warm witnessing. Thanks
I'm really very glad you felt the 'soothing' in these words Jonathan, you are perceptive though... whilst I try to hide the sadnesses I wouldn't be honest if I disregarded them altogether - this year summer has been sad and yet, still I pray for a prolongation, in hope that there is time for the wrongs to be righted, and, after all, an Indian summer is almost more delightful don't you think?
An Indian summer, that was nice, I haven’t heard that expression for ages (one of the peculiarities of living as a second language speaker, you must have the same I guess).
Yep, keep it coming as long as possible I say, there’ll be no Birkenstocks soon enough up here, and I’ll miss the simplicity of the warmth. But I do love the winter though, there’s something about a snow clad landscape that excites the soul :)
More balmy days and crickets and hoppers I wish for you, Susie. As always I loved your words!
Thank you sweet soul, Im so glad - wishing you calm in your day 🌿x
Oh what poetry Susie. Stunning words and beautiful photos to accompany.
I love your little thistle poem. I also read David's piece on thistles which I loved, but yes I can imagine that the fluff gets everywhere. Smiling as I think of you sitting by your noisy fan with thistle fluff in your hair. 😊 xx
Thank you Jo, every time I see a thistle, which is often, I think of that letter of Davids too. The weight of guilt is a heavy burden so I did a little research in my Herbal remedies bible, Mrs M Grieve's A Modern Herbal (which is about as far from modern as you can get but still used by most herbalists and found online in its entirety) turns out its pretty much a miracle plant! I knew of Milk Thistle cures but not the rest... so now I just need to find the time to harvest them before thistledown!
Wishing you an easy glide into the weekend 💛xx
xx will add that book to my list. 💛
Love your list of luxuries. Love the sound of a nearby train. Love the photos. Basically, love this whole piece. 💕
Thank you for wandering with me a while Holly - My needs become simpler with the years, luxuries I find are generally free! and thank goodness!
It took me years to fathom that sigh Holly, the train under the hill is my alarm to turn and return on work days, if it is late, so am I!
💚x
Thistles so magical down flying high in the vale. Scattered seeds to ensure life continues within an inch of space found in a niche. A medicinal herb that cures ills. A tea leaf surprise to read at bottom of a cup. A love to hate and swallow with the birds that fly. Oh the natural ways wind in circuitous paths . Frost will arrive again soon. Leaves fall colors in the full harvest moon. Sit at the desk. Take all these scenes in as i have enjoyed the journey with you.
I come to a standstill and changing my course decide to research this forbidden plant,(by law in many countries), for it is said that thistles will take over a country, cover the land and stifle ecology faster than the shooting stars sent from Cassiopeia. My findings are great though - how can I hate such a curative plant? I find I cannot!
Richard, Thank you for your beautiful poetic reminder that all things have reason to be.
Milk thistle is most beneficial.
I can feel the breath of the morning land cool , all the way across the ocean. Intoxicating to you, contagious to me. Here in Vermont , a handful of orange tinged leaves 🍁 bring rumor that Autumn is on its way.
I experience the same unexpected silence on my morning hike. Too quiet, too soon for our birds to leave. We watched in awe, as the Loons begin to teach their young to take off and land on the lake. As I write, a week has passed, and they are now circling, flying and landing with ease. A literal rite of passage.
One thistledown stands lonely amongst the goldenrods and St John’s wort. Can you imagine, just one…
All of your words today (and always) are transporting, absorbed in beautiful ways. And you included a line from one of my favorite Frost poems. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll just sit here on your hill, just a while longer.
OH Lor, autumn whispers its presence here too, the greens are no longer vibrant, my garden, now, faded by the effort to remain colourful and I know summer is crossing, tired sunburnt arms as if to say, 'my work is done'. I wish the days to more slowly pass for this has been too short a time.
My one regret of living on this hill is that there is no body of water large enough to attract water birds, there is a lake in the crook between this hill and the next but overshadowed by land on three sides it is not enticing, escape routes are few. A swan occasionally braves a landing and a few Mallard duck, even the heron is cautious.
I envy your Loons, I envy your watching them. I am imagining myself there with you... if you don't mind of course xx
PS One thistledown? Just one, unimaginable!
Oh please, do join me!
Ya know, if it’s ok with you, I would love to share a few photos. If not, I certainly understand. As a subscriber , I believe you have my email.
A delightful thought... let me just pack a few things and harness the sheep!
I would love to see your photos Lor, you don't even have to ask!
I will track down your email as soon as I finish sending you my thanks ! x
After going through turmoil in my younger years, I returned to my childhood home and took to wandering the woods. It healed my soul. Reading your letter today reminded me of those days. I think I will revisit those woods again soon. Thank you for the inspiration and sharing your beautifully written letter!
Diana you make me feel that my words are not in vane, I am so happy to hear that they inspired you to return to a place of healing, please, if you feel like sharing your finds, do email me - I would love to hear of your woodland wanders. Thank you so much for reading ♡
gorgeous -- we have many enormous thistles to dig too! xx
Many thanks Jan, The thistles are an on going nightmare, I could have cried the other morning when I saw that carpet of fluff adorning my field! In Ireland there is an old law which still stands about allowing thistles to grow in fields - it is a punishable offence - though likely not upheld. Hey ho.. forearmed is forewarned right! xx
I have been grubbing out the oceans of scotch thistles that drift over from my neighbour for over thirty years. It’s good exercise, I suppose. I leave the roots of milk thistles in place though, sharing the tops with my hens, a pet rabbit and my salad bowl.