Beautiful. Im spending more and more time in the garden watching the birds and the insects, trying to create a home for them while there is still time. Thank you for this x
Thank you, beautifully written. They are my favourites too. We have them here (in decreasing numbers). I know exactly what you mean about the silence when they go. Eyes to the sky to await their return in April/May and hearing that first screach. Transient joy.
My parents' house made an excellent base for nesting swifts. I loved looking upwards, at the swifts feeding, above the fields and, later, as the bats came to the same hunting ground.
Impressive though they were, they remained untouchable. I took great pleasure in catching, closely observing then setting free the butterflies attracted to my parents' and grandparents' kitchen gardens.
I also remember, with great delight, first reading a piece of literature with which I could fully identify. It mentions swifts. It is Flying Crooked by Robert Graves.
That was a wonderful read, please do more! 💕
Thank you for taking the time. I’m practicing - trying to find my voice a bit. While I wait for the songs to start whispering to me again!
Love it , its runs in the family!
Thank you - I’m going to see if I can learn how to write!
Beautiful.
Thanks for the evocative read.
It was always Swallows where I grew up and I feel a sense of joy and wonder whenever they return.
Beautiful. Im spending more and more time in the garden watching the birds and the insects, trying to create a home for them while there is still time. Thank you for this x
What a wonderful read. Reminded me a lot of the thoughts I have for those awe inspiring birds and how worried I am for their future.
Thank you, beautifully written. They are my favourites too. We have them here (in decreasing numbers). I know exactly what you mean about the silence when they go. Eyes to the sky to await their return in April/May and hearing that first screach. Transient joy.
Flying Crooked by Robert Graves
Flying Crooked
The butterfly, the cabbage white,
(His honest idiocy of flight)
Will never now, it is too late,
Master the art of flying straight,
Yet has — who knows so well as I? —
A just sense of how not to fly:
He lurches here and here by guess
And God and hope and hopelessness.
Even the aerobatic swift
Has not his flying-crooked gift.
Jan - my wife and I recite this poem to each other about once a week! We are the same tribe ! ❤️
A just sense of how not to fly:
He lurches here and here by guess
And God and hope and hopelessness.
Even the aerobatic swift
Has not his flying-crooked gift.
I thoroughly enjoyed reading your piece Tom.
My parents' house made an excellent base for nesting swifts. I loved looking upwards, at the swifts feeding, above the fields and, later, as the bats came to the same hunting ground.
Impressive though they were, they remained untouchable. I took great pleasure in catching, closely observing then setting free the butterflies attracted to my parents' and grandparents' kitchen gardens.
I also remember, with great delight, first reading a piece of literature with which I could fully identify. It mentions swifts. It is Flying Crooked by Robert Graves.
What a beautiful evocative read, Tom. So happy to see you writing on Substack.
Great post, Tom. We've just installed swift bricks in our house during renovation. Check them out, they're a great idea.
Well done. My cottage is flint and stone so it may crumble to dust if I tried - but the boxes are a start. Should be compulsory in new builds!
Beautiful piece, Tom. How about a swift song - Taylor's had it all her own way...
🤣 songs about birds on the way … and maybe I’ll cover a tay tay tune.
Thanks,Tom - always enjoyed your blog writing. Delighted to know that there might be more to come.
Will write for baked goods! 😊❤️
😂 noted!