That feels like a mighty and beautiful compliment I’m not sure I’m qualified to accept but will wear it for a while just because I’m so very delighted you said it Harley, huge heart thanks, that means so much.
Thank you, Susie, for this beautiful writing. It is inspiring for me to deepen my own observation skills and accordingly, my writing about it. As you are, I am in a year of transition; I am 62, and at the end of the year I retire. Till then I take my left-over holidays… A time to reflect and look forward…
Beautiful words dear Susie, despite the dearth of a summery June, I am still transported to a place of wonder and peace reading your wonderful words. We have had perhaps half a dozen sunny and warm days of June here, enough that I could take a walk down the river, where I can breathe more freely and easily, but where the rain and sunshine on repeat here has grown the nettles and greenery also to near triffid proportions 💛 I am enchanted by the sheep house, what perfect shelter for your new little hungry flock. I look forward to seeing more of them as they settle into their new home on the hill. Sending much love 💛💛
Oh Susie, thank you for writing me into your life! This was a great escape, so beautifully captured, it allowed me such long inhalations of breath. Thank you ❤️
So many thoughts bubble up glimpsing your thoughts and recollections as you recreate the hill in beautiful prose.
We mammalian humans, lacking tooth and claw, have evolved through the millennia staring into the fearful darkness just beyond the firelight. What monsters lurk in that unknown?
The fear of the unknown, the uncertain, the deathly agent, lessened as we garner knowledge and develop the superpower of prediction. And slowly we have learnt to understand and predict our environment.
And with that came the power to manipulate and alter and change. Which we did with such wild abandon that we’ve moved the environment itself some paces from where it was.
Then, we found ourselves living in a new place and our superpower to predict lost its vision. We can no longer rely on the patterns in which we evolved.
So the rains now come when the world was once dry. The warmth melts the cold. The cold freezes the warmth. Plants pack their bags and move north. Insects and animals follow suit. And once more we find ourselves peering into the dark, fearing the unknown, wondering what monsters lurk in the shadows.
For those of us embedded in nature, embracing the cycles and the predictably, sensitive to the subtleties, we understand these rainy months as more than mere temporary inconveniences. They are trips back in time to the childhood of our species where we were subject to the whims of the world. They bring forth a long forgotten humility and awe. And fear. They remind us of our fragility.
Your writing is so fine that I glimpse that humility and awe and fear emanating through an otherwise rainy day. And I share your obvious love of the small moments that are huge moments. The beauty and the relationships entwined through us all and nature in one great bundle.
Jonathan that is truly a most profoundly beautiful and reflective response… the reason it’s taken me longer than usual to reply also. I have been mulling over an equally thoughtful reflection in appreciation but having finally arrived at that day I’ve waited and longed for for the last thirteen weeks I find my head empty of anything even approaching sufficiently eloquent - I hope this won’t be the case for the entire summer holiday!
I mirror your thoughts when you speak of our evolutionary journey, the deep connection we have with nature, how it resonates deeply with us. I think the unpredictability and changes in our environment remind us of our inherent vulnerability and the awe we once felt as early humans.
It is true that these seemingly haphazard rainy months, inconvenient as they are, offer a unique perspective and a reminder of our place in the natural world. Your thoughts on humility and fear, and the beauty of small moments, mirror the sentiments I tried to capture, of course, you found them as I hoped you would.
I loved this line… “And I share your obvious love of the small moments that are huge moments.” They are, they bring me to my knees at times…
I’m glad you enjoyed the walk and my attempt to recreate it in prose. Sharing these experiences and reflections makes them all the more meaningful. Heart thanks for such a very beautiful reply… apologies for my own tardy response. 🍃
I'm so pleased you had some warmth and some non-March coming through, even though it is now July and some semblance of March makes itself known again.
"storm clouds loom on a burnt orange horizon, disappear in the wind again then reappear, a game they play for two days in a sudden, sultry heat so unexpected everything and everyone melts… tempers are frayed but the barley is cut, wrapped tightly into bales, gathered and protected. another year gathered and stored for fodder, for memories" -- this ending is incredibly beautiful.
Your writing and reflecting are Rilke’s “heart work.” Such an important reminder to sometimes “close our eyes” and let the inner landscape rise and set and show us her colors. Your powers of observation are exquisitely attuned to both inner and outer. 💛
Oh Kimberly, thank you for those much needed words - I am haunted by the feeling that my time is disappearing into the misty horizon of the unknown, every day is ‘heart work’ and soul work… I keep thinking of Mary Oliver’s words « When it's over, I want to say: all my life I was a bride married to amazement. I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms… »
My arms don’t feel filled yet… there is so much more to learn and see before I’m ready to let go and know that I truly was part of this extraordinary place I am lucky enough to call home…
I sometimes wish I knew the number of my days… and just as quickly réalise it’s far better I don’t! Love always sweet soul x
Another beautiful post, the evocation of time passing and wondering about "in 10 years" brought tears to my eyes. On a more concrete note, we had to turn the heat on to receive clients today and I'm planning a bean soup for dinner...welcome to July!
Oh Betty, since I reached that damn big number birthday I’ve felt permanently tearful and emotional - I’m sure it will pass but all those years behind me now outnumber greatly those ahead and time is running out to learn, to see and know all I want to… I’ve never felt quite so adrift! I’m glad they resonates with you too…
I don’t even know what to say about the weather… we’ve had to light the stove twice this week and I too made a huge very hot and spicy chili soup on a third to try and warm us from the inside!!
I sailed through 40 and 50 without a thought, and then 60 hit me like a ton of bricks too. But I think that barring unexpected health problems, you will start to feel better about it as you get used to it.
I just hope to rid myself of this terrible haunting feeling that my time is running out Betty… I have a vivid memory of this same feeling at thirty and it passed so I’m sure it will now too… 🙏🏽
Apparently, we brought the sun back with us from Thailand, although it has since disappeared once more. This spring has been dark and wet here too, although perhaps a bit warmer than with you.
I loved this piece, and found it could be read as a companion to your summer (or non-summer-summer) walk. Your powers of observation and always so sharp, as are the words and images you use to illustrate those observations.
The passage of time is something I have been thinking of a lot of late. Coming out of a fog as I am I realise how I've lost track of where, exactly, I am in time and life. Going for the school visit today brings this crashing home. I am glad I chose to focus what little energy I had on Ailsa, however, as I know these years will be previous banks of memory. What you say about reading the story was beautiful and real, sparking emotion.
Thank you, once again, for all you share here. I'm very glad the gods of the timeless woods threw us together here.
Alex, wondering where you are in time and life are words that resonate loud and clear… my son has just finished his college days - exams all done (results next Wednesday - eek!) and in September he will begin at the Lycée. I literally don’t know where those fifteen years went… he was born here in France and it seems like only yesterday still!
All I can say is brace yourself, time passes even more quickly when split into school terms and half terms - it’s terrifying! But seeing the progress too outweighs everything. Children are so damn smart these days!
Enormous thanks for taking time when I know you are so busy to read this - I hope that one day, when we both have a better grip of time that those gods of timeless woods will be kind enough to throw us into the same one!
Thank you for these beautiful words Susie. I read them over breakfast - while it's cold and rainy again outside - and they really slowed me down and had me think about our June for a while (sun and rain it was, a few days of heat, now gone again, and everything is overgrowing with greenery as well).
Belated thanks Mareike, we are still in that sunshine and showers stage, Saturday is the new moon and yet again (as it was last Saturday) the forecast has severe weather warnings up so that’s it for another month.!
I found a milk thistle yesterday that was so tall it passed the first bough of an old oak… it had to be at least four meters tall..! Utterly extraordinary !
I hope the week is treating you well - we have a few shy days of sunshine just peeping through so I’m off for a walk before supper!
I cherish the moments reading your enchanting stories while viewing your remarkable photos that deftly convey the words. Thank you for creating a wondrous space that allows me to escape embracing me in peace and happiness. XXXOOO
Bless you sweet soul sister… it has taken me every spare ten minutes I’ve had over the last two weeks to write this missive for June… lack of time and inspiration due the weather have been such a huge hindrance when I read it back again I very nearly didn’t post it at all so I’m delighted and relieved you enjoyed them - thank you from my heart 🩵xxxx
“…persistent since my big number birthday at the start of the month,
it hovers in disturbing waves, fear,
first always, then quiet acceptance -“
Yes , there will come a day when you will be unable to do all that you can do today, but that day is someday, and not now. So take a deep breath and breathe in your hill. And with every exhale you know dearly, how lucky you are.
“Her carrots were HUGE as tree trunks Her onions were as BIG as hot air balloons.Her parsley was as THICK as a jungle.”
I absolutely love the simplicity of Scarlet Beane. Such a beautiful way to refocus our minds. Read children’s books more often.
That day ahead of me fills me with terror Lor, I am so aware that it’s there in the distance. Maybe it’s further than I think, maybe it’s closer but it’s there waiting and in the interim, however long that will be, I feel a profound need to fill every second with knowledge, with creativity, with understanding, with seeing… as Mary Oliver said
« I don't want to end up simply having visited this world… »
I want to know it as if it were my own skin and bones… and I know, I’m lucky to have that chance.
Scarlet Beane really is such a simple tale but it beguiled my daughter from the very first time I read it. I still have the words in my head today and she’s 27 this year!
The Wind in the Willows was also a childhood favorite of mine yet strangely I never read it to her… and I don’t know why!
Hugely belated thanks and apologies for your thoughtful reply - I hope the week is being gentle in you.
Oh I totally understand Susie. When I was a kid, my mom used to say, when you’re dead you’re done. In a box in the ground and that’s it. My sisters and I spent our childhood thinking of death as being the horror movie version. The words have always stayed with me .
Now, I let Chloe Hope~
( Death & Birds, Substack) help me write a different narrative. One I can live with and beside.
“Mortality is deeply offensive to the ego—but in the moments that I allow myself to feel the truth of just how tenuous “I” am, my cloudy lenses begin to clear, the miraculous appears, and my hands instinctively shoot up to cover my mouth, suppressing the excited squeal that wants to escape.”
{Chloe Hope , D&B }
And though we are certainly all aware, she once wrote that none of us are ‘guaranteed the day’.
With that statement, filed away in the archives of my mind, I am much more relaxed. Less terrified with time.
You wrote ,“I am so aware that it’s there in the distance. Maybe it’s further than I think, maybe it’s closer…”
When I find myself too focused on my own, or worse, my husband’s finite existence, I think of that one sentence. Then I return to the moment and breathe in a bit deeper, exhale a little longer. I still find myself making an effort to change my own dialog,I am , after all, always a work in progress.
I love this Susie. It's not a book I ever came across. But I can only imagine how much fun it must have been to read to your daughter Rosie. I read so many books to my children when they were little, and still try and read them my own writing when I can track them down!
I understand the tears. Books and words and children on knees. Precious times. Very precious indeed. 🙏💗. Wishing you warm sun rays.
It’s an odd thing Jo, writing here - and reading - has brought tears to my eyes more often in the last eighteen months than I ever thought possible…
I have kept every favourite book of both son and daughter, the one mention here I could recite by heart, amongst others too… I read every night to my daughter until she was ten years old because she is dyslexic, all the Roald Dahl, all of Harry Potter and The Phillip Pullman trilogy… the are embellished in my head for eternity.
So yes to books and words and children missing or otherwise, they are more precious than I could put into words !
Thank you for you lovely comment - I wish you kindness in your week ahead, gentle days… xxx
You have a very beautiful, distinct and eloquent style to your writing.
That feels like a mighty and beautiful compliment I’m not sure I’m qualified to accept but will wear it for a while just because I’m so very delighted you said it Harley, huge heart thanks, that means so much.
Thank you, Susie, for this beautiful writing. It is inspiring for me to deepen my own observation skills and accordingly, my writing about it. As you are, I am in a year of transition; I am 62, and at the end of the year I retire. Till then I take my left-over holidays… A time to reflect and look forward…
Beautiful words dear Susie, despite the dearth of a summery June, I am still transported to a place of wonder and peace reading your wonderful words. We have had perhaps half a dozen sunny and warm days of June here, enough that I could take a walk down the river, where I can breathe more freely and easily, but where the rain and sunshine on repeat here has grown the nettles and greenery also to near triffid proportions 💛 I am enchanted by the sheep house, what perfect shelter for your new little hungry flock. I look forward to seeing more of them as they settle into their new home on the hill. Sending much love 💛💛
Oh Susie, thank you for writing me into your life! This was a great escape, so beautifully captured, it allowed me such long inhalations of breath. Thank you ❤️
Well, yes. Thanks. Wonderful.
So many thoughts bubble up glimpsing your thoughts and recollections as you recreate the hill in beautiful prose.
We mammalian humans, lacking tooth and claw, have evolved through the millennia staring into the fearful darkness just beyond the firelight. What monsters lurk in that unknown?
The fear of the unknown, the uncertain, the deathly agent, lessened as we garner knowledge and develop the superpower of prediction. And slowly we have learnt to understand and predict our environment.
And with that came the power to manipulate and alter and change. Which we did with such wild abandon that we’ve moved the environment itself some paces from where it was.
Then, we found ourselves living in a new place and our superpower to predict lost its vision. We can no longer rely on the patterns in which we evolved.
So the rains now come when the world was once dry. The warmth melts the cold. The cold freezes the warmth. Plants pack their bags and move north. Insects and animals follow suit. And once more we find ourselves peering into the dark, fearing the unknown, wondering what monsters lurk in the shadows.
For those of us embedded in nature, embracing the cycles and the predictably, sensitive to the subtleties, we understand these rainy months as more than mere temporary inconveniences. They are trips back in time to the childhood of our species where we were subject to the whims of the world. They bring forth a long forgotten humility and awe. And fear. They remind us of our fragility.
Your writing is so fine that I glimpse that humility and awe and fear emanating through an otherwise rainy day. And I share your obvious love of the small moments that are huge moments. The beauty and the relationships entwined through us all and nature in one great bundle.
Thanks Susie. An excellent walk. 🙏🏼
Jonathan that is truly a most profoundly beautiful and reflective response… the reason it’s taken me longer than usual to reply also. I have been mulling over an equally thoughtful reflection in appreciation but having finally arrived at that day I’ve waited and longed for for the last thirteen weeks I find my head empty of anything even approaching sufficiently eloquent - I hope this won’t be the case for the entire summer holiday!
I mirror your thoughts when you speak of our evolutionary journey, the deep connection we have with nature, how it resonates deeply with us. I think the unpredictability and changes in our environment remind us of our inherent vulnerability and the awe we once felt as early humans.
It is true that these seemingly haphazard rainy months, inconvenient as they are, offer a unique perspective and a reminder of our place in the natural world. Your thoughts on humility and fear, and the beauty of small moments, mirror the sentiments I tried to capture, of course, you found them as I hoped you would.
I loved this line… “And I share your obvious love of the small moments that are huge moments.” They are, they bring me to my knees at times…
I’m glad you enjoyed the walk and my attempt to recreate it in prose. Sharing these experiences and reflections makes them all the more meaningful. Heart thanks for such a very beautiful reply… apologies for my own tardy response. 🍃
It was your words that encouraged my thinking so all thanks to you, Susie. It's always a pleasure to read your writing.
And praise be to empty headedness! Let that holiday mind rule your coming days I say :)
Stunning words and photographs, Susie.
I'm so pleased you had some warmth and some non-March coming through, even though it is now July and some semblance of March makes itself known again.
"storm clouds loom on a burnt orange horizon, disappear in the wind again then reappear, a game they play for two days in a sudden, sultry heat so unexpected everything and everyone melts… tempers are frayed but the barley is cut, wrapped tightly into bales, gathered and protected. another year gathered and stored for fodder, for memories" -- this ending is incredibly beautiful.
Your writing and reflecting are Rilke’s “heart work.” Such an important reminder to sometimes “close our eyes” and let the inner landscape rise and set and show us her colors. Your powers of observation are exquisitely attuned to both inner and outer. 💛
Oh Kimberly, thank you for those much needed words - I am haunted by the feeling that my time is disappearing into the misty horizon of the unknown, every day is ‘heart work’ and soul work… I keep thinking of Mary Oliver’s words « When it's over, I want to say: all my life I was a bride married to amazement. I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms… »
My arms don’t feel filled yet… there is so much more to learn and see before I’m ready to let go and know that I truly was part of this extraordinary place I am lucky enough to call home…
I sometimes wish I knew the number of my days… and just as quickly réalise it’s far better I don’t! Love always sweet soul x
Another beautiful post, the evocation of time passing and wondering about "in 10 years" brought tears to my eyes. On a more concrete note, we had to turn the heat on to receive clients today and I'm planning a bean soup for dinner...welcome to July!
Oh Betty, since I reached that damn big number birthday I’ve felt permanently tearful and emotional - I’m sure it will pass but all those years behind me now outnumber greatly those ahead and time is running out to learn, to see and know all I want to… I’ve never felt quite so adrift! I’m glad they resonates with you too…
I don’t even know what to say about the weather… we’ve had to light the stove twice this week and I too made a huge very hot and spicy chili soup on a third to try and warm us from the inside!!
Crazy days is all I can say!! X
I sailed through 40 and 50 without a thought, and then 60 hit me like a ton of bricks too. But I think that barring unexpected health problems, you will start to feel better about it as you get used to it.
I just hope to rid myself of this terrible haunting feeling that my time is running out Betty… I have a vivid memory of this same feeling at thirty and it passed so I’m sure it will now too… 🙏🏽
Oddly, I almost mentioned 30 because that was my other tough birthday. Now I wonder why!
That is strange, I’ve never known anyone else struggle with 30. I loved being that age in the end too… x
Apparently, we brought the sun back with us from Thailand, although it has since disappeared once more. This spring has been dark and wet here too, although perhaps a bit warmer than with you.
I loved this piece, and found it could be read as a companion to your summer (or non-summer-summer) walk. Your powers of observation and always so sharp, as are the words and images you use to illustrate those observations.
The passage of time is something I have been thinking of a lot of late. Coming out of a fog as I am I realise how I've lost track of where, exactly, I am in time and life. Going for the school visit today brings this crashing home. I am glad I chose to focus what little energy I had on Ailsa, however, as I know these years will be previous banks of memory. What you say about reading the story was beautiful and real, sparking emotion.
Thank you, once again, for all you share here. I'm very glad the gods of the timeless woods threw us together here.
Alex, wondering where you are in time and life are words that resonate loud and clear… my son has just finished his college days - exams all done (results next Wednesday - eek!) and in September he will begin at the Lycée. I literally don’t know where those fifteen years went… he was born here in France and it seems like only yesterday still!
All I can say is brace yourself, time passes even more quickly when split into school terms and half terms - it’s terrifying! But seeing the progress too outweighs everything. Children are so damn smart these days!
Enormous thanks for taking time when I know you are so busy to read this - I hope that one day, when we both have a better grip of time that those gods of timeless woods will be kind enough to throw us into the same one!
Thank you for these beautiful words Susie. I read them over breakfast - while it's cold and rainy again outside - and they really slowed me down and had me think about our June for a while (sun and rain it was, a few days of heat, now gone again, and everything is overgrowing with greenery as well).
Belated thanks Mareike, we are still in that sunshine and showers stage, Saturday is the new moon and yet again (as it was last Saturday) the forecast has severe weather warnings up so that’s it for another month.!
I found a milk thistle yesterday that was so tall it passed the first bough of an old oak… it had to be at least four meters tall..! Utterly extraordinary !
I hope the week is treating you well - we have a few shy days of sunshine just peeping through so I’m off for a walk before supper!
I cherish the moments reading your enchanting stories while viewing your remarkable photos that deftly convey the words. Thank you for creating a wondrous space that allows me to escape embracing me in peace and happiness. XXXOOO
Bless you sweet soul sister… it has taken me every spare ten minutes I’ve had over the last two weeks to write this missive for June… lack of time and inspiration due the weather have been such a huge hindrance when I read it back again I very nearly didn’t post it at all so I’m delighted and relieved you enjoyed them - thank you from my heart 🩵xxxx
“…persistent since my big number birthday at the start of the month,
it hovers in disturbing waves, fear,
first always, then quiet acceptance -“
Yes , there will come a day when you will be unable to do all that you can do today, but that day is someday, and not now. So take a deep breath and breathe in your hill. And with every exhale you know dearly, how lucky you are.
“Her carrots were HUGE as tree trunks Her onions were as BIG as hot air balloons.Her parsley was as THICK as a jungle.”
I absolutely love the simplicity of Scarlet Beane. Such a beautiful way to refocus our minds. Read children’s books more often.
My go to classic; The Wind and the Willows
by Kenneth Grahame.
That day ahead of me fills me with terror Lor, I am so aware that it’s there in the distance. Maybe it’s further than I think, maybe it’s closer but it’s there waiting and in the interim, however long that will be, I feel a profound need to fill every second with knowledge, with creativity, with understanding, with seeing… as Mary Oliver said
« I don't want to end up simply having visited this world… »
I want to know it as if it were my own skin and bones… and I know, I’m lucky to have that chance.
Scarlet Beane really is such a simple tale but it beguiled my daughter from the very first time I read it. I still have the words in my head today and she’s 27 this year!
The Wind in the Willows was also a childhood favorite of mine yet strangely I never read it to her… and I don’t know why!
Hugely belated thanks and apologies for your thoughtful reply - I hope the week is being gentle in you.
Oh I totally understand Susie. When I was a kid, my mom used to say, when you’re dead you’re done. In a box in the ground and that’s it. My sisters and I spent our childhood thinking of death as being the horror movie version. The words have always stayed with me .
Now, I let Chloe Hope~
( Death & Birds, Substack) help me write a different narrative. One I can live with and beside.
“Mortality is deeply offensive to the ego—but in the moments that I allow myself to feel the truth of just how tenuous “I” am, my cloudy lenses begin to clear, the miraculous appears, and my hands instinctively shoot up to cover my mouth, suppressing the excited squeal that wants to escape.”
{Chloe Hope , D&B }
And though we are certainly all aware, she once wrote that none of us are ‘guaranteed the day’.
With that statement, filed away in the archives of my mind, I am much more relaxed. Less terrified with time.
You wrote ,“I am so aware that it’s there in the distance. Maybe it’s further than I think, maybe it’s closer…”
When I find myself too focused on my own, or worse, my husband’s finite existence, I think of that one sentence. Then I return to the moment and breathe in a bit deeper, exhale a little longer. I still find myself making an effort to change my own dialog,I am , after all, always a work in progress.
It also helps to smile at yourself.
And yes, Mary Oliver.
Her carrots were HUGE as tree trunks
Her onions were as BIG as hot air balloons.
Her parsley was as THICK as a jungle.
I love this Susie. It's not a book I ever came across. But I can only imagine how much fun it must have been to read to your daughter Rosie. I read so many books to my children when they were little, and still try and read them my own writing when I can track them down!
I understand the tears. Books and words and children on knees. Precious times. Very precious indeed. 🙏💗. Wishing you warm sun rays.
It’s an odd thing Jo, writing here - and reading - has brought tears to my eyes more often in the last eighteen months than I ever thought possible…
I have kept every favourite book of both son and daughter, the one mention here I could recite by heart, amongst others too… I read every night to my daughter until she was ten years old because she is dyslexic, all the Roald Dahl, all of Harry Potter and The Phillip Pullman trilogy… the are embellished in my head for eternity.
So yes to books and words and children missing or otherwise, they are more precious than I could put into words !
Thank you for you lovely comment - I wish you kindness in your week ahead, gentle days… xxx
PS it’s freezing again!
🥰
Susie, SO gorgeous. Your photos are beautiful, but your words. YOUR WORDS. SUSIE. straight to the heart of me.
And yours go straight to the heart of me Natalie…, my eternal thanks for reading and sharing 🤍xox