This delicious essay is replete with so many beautiful and blurry, frosty moments to savor, as I do still apricot apricity, especially the adolescent ash that does not sleep, but more than any, it is the moment the hunter put down his gun. As always, thank you.
Dearest Renée, thank you for your always kind words. As of this day I can confirm the verity in the hunters words. As I walked my little dog this morning he slowed to halt alongside me to show me his newly purchased camera, all neatly packed in a purpose-made bag patently awaiting its first outing; I felt and still do, touched to my heart that I could have had such a momentous effect... tears prickled my eyes as he pulled away telling me once again, his hunting days are behind him. There are days when the good in this world shines so brightly!
Susie, I am loathe to attempt to 'tell' you anything about this hearty Cassoulet you've filled my humble, beggar's bowl with so I will hope instead that even across all these miles you will hear my snuffles and slurps, the surprised grunts and involuntary sighs, the faint ring of the spoon that is my grateful eye, scraping gently against the warm sides of the bowl, wanting to taste each savory word and phrase, see every frosted twig.
I had been saving this meal, waiting for the mud of impending loss to settle, the journey to a dear friend working his way ever closer to the edge of the Styx and the swirl of every profound thing that came with that.
How dear to be offered a seat near your hearth, to listen to the siss and sizzle of flames and embers, to taste the vowels and consonants, and bask in the calm music of your storyteller's voice.
Dear David, to you I offer a permanent seat by my warm and crackling hearth in this tardy reply which cannot possibly ease wholly the sad day that looms like a dark cloud ahead of you but in the hope that perhaps a bowl of my own cassoulet, a sturdy comfort to the ravages of life's losses if ever there was one, will envelope you from the inside to the outside in a protective glow sufficiently warm that you may traverse difficult days with only those swirls of glorious moments spent together at the fore. That the 'tristesse' of the days after will seem less so for having a full belly.
They are but humble offerings I realise but they come with sincere hugs and gratitude for this distant and wondrous connection. 💛
Watching the news about the cold and the snow while hoping to survive the FIRES in LA--and then read this gorgeous essay that somehow missed my inbox during continuing evacuation alerts. xx Stay safe as I know you will try to do and keep writing and sending our these delicious warm sentences.
Oh Susie, I can’t tell you what a delight it is to read your stories and see your beautiful photos. How I wish I could have walked with you on that wintry morning! Xx
Susie, I am loathe to attempt to 'tell' you anything about this hearty Cassoulet you've filled my humble, beggar's bowl with so I will hope instead that even across all these miles you will hear my snuffles and slurps, the surprised grunts and involuntary sighs, the faint ring of the spoon that is my grateful eye, scraping gently against the warm sides of the bowl, wanting to taste each savory word and phrase, see every frosted twig.
I had been saving this meal, waiting for the mud of impending loss to settle, the journey to a dear friend working his way ever closer to the edge of the Styx and the swirl of every profound thing that came with that.
How dear to be offered a seat near your hearth, to listen to the siss and sizzle of flames and embers, to taste the vowels and consonants, and the calm music of your storyteller's voice.
A snow day here. Going to work late. Waiting for roads to melt a bit. But glad I had the time to sit and read this. I do hope you inspired the hunter to put up his gun.
Thank you for taking the time to read Nicole, If I have converted one hunter to believing there are more ways than one to shoot nature, I will be happy! Enjoy the snow, we have yet to see a single flake here this winter!
Thank you for another beautiful letter, I wish I am more eloquent in English to tell you how wonderful your writing is, but reading this is a lovely start of the day!
Dear Elske your English is faultless always and the fact that you read my letters and leave such lovely comments is heartwarming enough - Thank you, always from my heart and with love for being here! xx
I am stunned into silence. My reply to this letter delayed for a day, for words of adoration are insufficient. I must capture stolen sentences and bottle them too, and somehow find sentences of my own to send in their own bottle to a cold blue, bruised blue master noticer, artist, capturer of wonder.
Watched by vulpine eyes, under a lupine moon, in defiance of maths teachers, I say, the world benefits greatly from Susan staring more at clouds, than any mathematical exercises. For she charms hunters to lay down their weapons with her secret enchantments.
Dearest Susie, inspired by the friendship of two Davids cemented with a crayfish claw and a summer-shed snakeskin, I ask, will you be my friend?
I have a tiny mouse, curled sleeping in a hessian bed, who whispered to me once, that her family are all in France, in a house with a recalcitrant stove by a hill, and would I please send her home. She told me their gracious hostess lets them party all night and has promised to knit them tiny winter mittens and socks, and she would dearly like some too. 💛✨🐁
Oh Emily, I can hardly type for tears, this comment, your beautiful words that flow through me like golden honey fill my heart so sweetly I feel it might explode with love! Of course you can be my friend, perhaps you might teach me some maths and I will share all my secret enchantments with you. We will lay under the lupine moon and howl like wild things together, then bottle the stars to sprinkle in the meadows to make the morning dew just that bit more sparkly!
Please pack a small case for your poor tiny mouse as soon as possible! Her family are waiting with excited squeaks. There will be tiny socks waiting and crumbs of a delicious carrot cake too, the music is still playing and I will unblock the hole in the floorboards just for her. She will be welcomed with tiny kisses and hugs.
David’s comment reminded me of one of my favourite children’s stories, Roald Dhal’s ‘The BFG’ in which a friendly giant bottles dreams, I cannot recall how many times I have read this book out loud, especially to my daughter but it was many. Perhaps we need to bottle more beautiful things?
I am praying the hunter wasn’t just passing time with an errant comment, my feeling, as I looked at his misery in the cold was no, I can but hope.💚x
Oh yes! I remember those bottled dreams... (having read the BFG to my daughters too)
I like to think that's what we can do as writers. Sending messages in virtual bottles across space and time. Your bottles certainly contain beautiful things! Every one of them!
I hope mine do too... that's been my intention ever since I started writing. I remember saying this to a friend a couple of years ago, "I write to bring some beauty into the world" Thanks for reminding me 🙏 💕
Oh yes yes yes to this! My intention here too Veronika, has only ever been to share this tiny corner of paradise I am so fortunate to live in with anyone and everyone who may not have the ability to see or hear or touch all these gifts we have been given.
I wish I could send a bottle of beauty to everyone who is in need, in the impossibility of such a deed, I walk and write and hope that it is sufficient.
Thank you so much for reading and for being here. 🙏🏼💛
That cloud! Oh wow. Stunning photo and a stunning sight.
"I am surprised and delighted when slicing a loaf of home baked bread taken from the freezer—dated November 2024—to find a ring thought lost baked into the middle." -- are you sure you didn't also bake a giant loaf of bread and that your missing copper pot is inside it?? 😄
Wonderful read, Susie. Thank you for translating the French to relay that heartwarming story of hunter-turned(hopefully)-photographer.
Haha, if only Nathan! That copper pot is just one of many mysterious disappearing objects on this old farm... I am quite convinced I will find them all hoarded away in a cave or cabin I've yet to find here on the hill one day though... a story for another day perhaps!
That cloud literally stopped me in my tracks, Seth thought I was finally slipping the last cog! It was extraordinary!
Thanks always for your time my friend, your very welcome for the translation! 💛
David was right, I love the introduction of dialogue and character, I love the way you melt as he takes the stage and I feel his conflict and curiosity. Absolutely beautiful as always Susie. A powerful tonic with which to face this week.
I am not sure I am worthy of such a compliment from either you or David but will keep it safely tucked away for moments of need in a precious file marked 'heartfelt thanks' 🙏🏼
You are so very appreciated Jonathan.
PS I am practicing that melt for future encounters, fox and hunter!
Susie,
This delicious essay is replete with so many beautiful and blurry, frosty moments to savor, as I do still apricot apricity, especially the adolescent ash that does not sleep, but more than any, it is the moment the hunter put down his gun. As always, thank you.
Dearest Renée, thank you for your always kind words. As of this day I can confirm the verity in the hunters words. As I walked my little dog this morning he slowed to halt alongside me to show me his newly purchased camera, all neatly packed in a purpose-made bag patently awaiting its first outing; I felt and still do, touched to my heart that I could have had such a momentous effect... tears prickled my eyes as he pulled away telling me once again, his hunting days are behind him. There are days when the good in this world shines so brightly!
With love xx
Susie, I am loathe to attempt to 'tell' you anything about this hearty Cassoulet you've filled my humble, beggar's bowl with so I will hope instead that even across all these miles you will hear my snuffles and slurps, the surprised grunts and involuntary sighs, the faint ring of the spoon that is my grateful eye, scraping gently against the warm sides of the bowl, wanting to taste each savory word and phrase, see every frosted twig.
I had been saving this meal, waiting for the mud of impending loss to settle, the journey to a dear friend working his way ever closer to the edge of the Styx and the swirl of every profound thing that came with that.
How dear to be offered a seat near your hearth, to listen to the siss and sizzle of flames and embers, to taste the vowels and consonants, and bask in the calm music of your storyteller's voice.
Thank you.
Dear David, to you I offer a permanent seat by my warm and crackling hearth in this tardy reply which cannot possibly ease wholly the sad day that looms like a dark cloud ahead of you but in the hope that perhaps a bowl of my own cassoulet, a sturdy comfort to the ravages of life's losses if ever there was one, will envelope you from the inside to the outside in a protective glow sufficiently warm that you may traverse difficult days with only those swirls of glorious moments spent together at the fore. That the 'tristesse' of the days after will seem less so for having a full belly.
They are but humble offerings I realise but they come with sincere hugs and gratitude for this distant and wondrous connection. 💛
Watching the news about the cold and the snow while hoping to survive the FIRES in LA--and then read this gorgeous essay that somehow missed my inbox during continuing evacuation alerts. xx Stay safe as I know you will try to do and keep writing and sending our these delicious warm sentences.
More importantly dear Mary, YOU stay safe, I too know you will try...
May you week be blessed with cool rain dear one xxx
Oh Susie, I can’t tell you what a delight it is to read your stories and see your beautiful photos. How I wish I could have walked with you on that wintry morning! Xx
Oh JoAnna, how you would have loved that morning, the light and layers of misty gorgeousness seemed limitless... I wish you could have too.
Sending a hug to you on a far less bright day but nonetheless with love and my heartfelt thanks. xx
Susie, I am loathe to attempt to 'tell' you anything about this hearty Cassoulet you've filled my humble, beggar's bowl with so I will hope instead that even across all these miles you will hear my snuffles and slurps, the surprised grunts and involuntary sighs, the faint ring of the spoon that is my grateful eye, scraping gently against the warm sides of the bowl, wanting to taste each savory word and phrase, see every frosted twig.
I had been saving this meal, waiting for the mud of impending loss to settle, the journey to a dear friend working his way ever closer to the edge of the Styx and the swirl of every profound thing that came with that.
How dear to be offered a seat near your hearth, to listen to the siss and sizzle of flames and embers, to taste the vowels and consonants, and the calm music of your storyteller's voice.
Thank you.
I’m not at all surprised that you can enchant hunters to abandon their guns. 💜
Bless you Ben, I’m not sure I really did or even said anything to enchant him, I just appeared at the right moment! 🙏🏼
A snow day here. Going to work late. Waiting for roads to melt a bit. But glad I had the time to sit and read this. I do hope you inspired the hunter to put up his gun.
Thank you for taking the time to read Nicole, If I have converted one hunter to believing there are more ways than one to shoot nature, I will be happy! Enjoy the snow, we have yet to see a single flake here this winter!
Thank you for another beautiful letter, I wish I am more eloquent in English to tell you how wonderful your writing is, but reading this is a lovely start of the day!
Dear Elske your English is faultless always and the fact that you read my letters and leave such lovely comments is heartwarming enough - Thank you, always from my heart and with love for being here! xx
I am stunned into silence. My reply to this letter delayed for a day, for words of adoration are insufficient. I must capture stolen sentences and bottle them too, and somehow find sentences of my own to send in their own bottle to a cold blue, bruised blue master noticer, artist, capturer of wonder.
Watched by vulpine eyes, under a lupine moon, in defiance of maths teachers, I say, the world benefits greatly from Susan staring more at clouds, than any mathematical exercises. For she charms hunters to lay down their weapons with her secret enchantments.
Dearest Susie, inspired by the friendship of two Davids cemented with a crayfish claw and a summer-shed snakeskin, I ask, will you be my friend?
I have a tiny mouse, curled sleeping in a hessian bed, who whispered to me once, that her family are all in France, in a house with a recalcitrant stove by a hill, and would I please send her home. She told me their gracious hostess lets them party all night and has promised to knit them tiny winter mittens and socks, and she would dearly like some too. 💛✨🐁
I will pack her little suitcase and send her with my love ✨💛
Then we will wait impatiently to hug her when she arrives! 💛
Oh Emily, I can hardly type for tears, this comment, your beautiful words that flow through me like golden honey fill my heart so sweetly I feel it might explode with love! Of course you can be my friend, perhaps you might teach me some maths and I will share all my secret enchantments with you. We will lay under the lupine moon and howl like wild things together, then bottle the stars to sprinkle in the meadows to make the morning dew just that bit more sparkly!
Please pack a small case for your poor tiny mouse as soon as possible! Her family are waiting with excited squeaks. There will be tiny socks waiting and crumbs of a delicious carrot cake too, the music is still playing and I will unblock the hole in the floorboards just for her. She will be welcomed with tiny kisses and hugs.
Bless you for this my beautiful friend ♥️xxx
So moved by the new movement you inspired in the hunting man.
Many thanks Eric, There are many ways to shoot, I hope he has realised a gun is far from the best option… 🙏🏼
Simply gorgeous!
I now imagine David sniffing at the bottle with your sentences...
and the grateful hunter whom you have released from being frozen in the belief that shooting requires a gun...
the inspiring words of Mary Oliver whispering in my ear...
thinking of you staring at stars and gazing at clouds, while capturing shifting landscapes through your magical lens...
Merci, infiniment merci... 🙏 💕
Mille mercis a toi aussi Veronika,
David’s comment reminded me of one of my favourite children’s stories, Roald Dhal’s ‘The BFG’ in which a friendly giant bottles dreams, I cannot recall how many times I have read this book out loud, especially to my daughter but it was many. Perhaps we need to bottle more beautiful things?
I am praying the hunter wasn’t just passing time with an errant comment, my feeling, as I looked at his misery in the cold was no, I can but hope.💚x
Oh yes! I remember those bottled dreams... (having read the BFG to my daughters too)
I like to think that's what we can do as writers. Sending messages in virtual bottles across space and time. Your bottles certainly contain beautiful things! Every one of them!
I hope mine do too... that's been my intention ever since I started writing. I remember saying this to a friend a couple of years ago, "I write to bring some beauty into the world" Thanks for reminding me 🙏 💕
"I write to bring some beauty into the world"
Oh yes yes yes to this! My intention here too Veronika, has only ever been to share this tiny corner of paradise I am so fortunate to live in with anyone and everyone who may not have the ability to see or hear or touch all these gifts we have been given.
I wish I could send a bottle of beauty to everyone who is in need, in the impossibility of such a deed, I walk and write and hope that it is sufficient.
Thank you so much for reading and for being here. 🙏🏼💛
That cloud! Oh wow. Stunning photo and a stunning sight.
"I am surprised and delighted when slicing a loaf of home baked bread taken from the freezer—dated November 2024—to find a ring thought lost baked into the middle." -- are you sure you didn't also bake a giant loaf of bread and that your missing copper pot is inside it?? 😄
Wonderful read, Susie. Thank you for translating the French to relay that heartwarming story of hunter-turned(hopefully)-photographer.
Haha, if only Nathan! That copper pot is just one of many mysterious disappearing objects on this old farm... I am quite convinced I will find them all hoarded away in a cave or cabin I've yet to find here on the hill one day though... a story for another day perhaps!
That cloud literally stopped me in my tracks, Seth thought I was finally slipping the last cog! It was extraordinary!
Thanks always for your time my friend, your very welcome for the translation! 💛
Hehe, yeah, I wonder how many people miss seeing tremendous clouds because they aren’t looking at the sky!
I’d take cloud watching over maths any day Nathan!
💜
Thank you Darren 💚🙏🏼
Beautiful post! I greatly enjoy your writing! Thanks so much for sharing!
Thank you so much for taking the time to read through Amy, I am delighted you enjoyed my meanderings both literal and literary! 🙏🏼
That’s not math you’ve linked to. It’s Greek. Isn’t it? 😉 😘
It might as well be Louise! 😂xx
David was right, I love the introduction of dialogue and character, I love the way you melt as he takes the stage and I feel his conflict and curiosity. Absolutely beautiful as always Susie. A powerful tonic with which to face this week.
I am not sure I am worthy of such a compliment from either you or David but will keep it safely tucked away for moments of need in a precious file marked 'heartfelt thanks' 🙏🏼
You are so very appreciated Jonathan.
PS I am practicing that melt for future encounters, fox and hunter!