Ah Lindsay, I was reading and getting my head around the tragedy at Sycamore Gap last night after finding the news hard to take earlier in the week. I thought about the reverence and respect of your trees in the story you told me. This is bookmarked to read when I carve out a moment’s peace!
Can't even bear to think of the Sycamore. We have a protected sycamore in the neighbour's garden which is a titanic hulk and our bedroom, lost in its branches and leaves feels like a treehouse. Trees are so many times more noble than humans. BTW Your neighbourhood research is positively Joyceian-lovely!
Thank you for reading, Anna. I am picturing your bedroomin amongst those branches and it sounds magical. Yes - I tend to get sucked down the rabbit hole quite rapidly when a bit of sleuthing is required!
I enjoyed this so much! I also often think of the age of trees, and the things they would have witnessed across the years.
It reminds me of a beautiful song I heard Karine Polwart perform in a concert, that she wrote on the day they felled the 200yr old Sabal palm at the Edinburgh botanics. This is the most I could find online (no song) but you might enjoy: https://twitter.com/IAMKP/status/1442379293955346433?s=19
Thanks for this, Andra. I had no idea about this and will need to find the song somewhere. Love Karine Polwart.
Our old trees really do put our human lives into perspective when we think about who would've lived with them down the centuries. We ae so short-sighted, aren't we!
Such a beautifully written, poignant and mournful piece, Lindsay. I'm glad you followed your instinct and shared this with us instead this week.
Sounds like a fascinating journey you've been on to piece together the stories of your home. So much you'll never know but so much that would have been forgotten if it wasn't for this research you're doing.
And now you're living and creating its next chapters.
(P.S I also love old maps, not that I'm any good at reading them)
Thank you for those lovely words, Janelle. I'm also glad I went with my gut! It's funny. I'm sure we all have dormant pieces on our hard drives just waiting to be shared at the right moment. I hadn't really known what to do with this piece until last week.
Oh my goodness I am so moved by your archival archeology, you are a wonderful custodian for the house - and the memory of the trees. Loved the naming of this pandemic phenomenon too, when "the unvoiced fears that oftentimes kept me from my sleep became socially understood." You've helped me realise that it is not weird to 'miss' those times when we had a truly shared language x
Ah Lindsay, I was reading and getting my head around the tragedy at Sycamore Gap last night after finding the news hard to take earlier in the week. I thought about the reverence and respect of your trees in the story you told me. This is bookmarked to read when I carve out a moment’s peace!
Thanks, Lyndsay! That's so kind of you to comment and wishing you space for reading later!
Can't even bear to think of the Sycamore. We have a protected sycamore in the neighbour's garden which is a titanic hulk and our bedroom, lost in its branches and leaves feels like a treehouse. Trees are so many times more noble than humans. BTW Your neighbourhood research is positively Joyceian-lovely!
Thank you for reading, Anna. I am picturing your bedroomin amongst those branches and it sounds magical. Yes - I tend to get sucked down the rabbit hole quite rapidly when a bit of sleuthing is required!
I enjoyed this so much! I also often think of the age of trees, and the things they would have witnessed across the years.
It reminds me of a beautiful song I heard Karine Polwart perform in a concert, that she wrote on the day they felled the 200yr old Sabal palm at the Edinburgh botanics. This is the most I could find online (no song) but you might enjoy: https://twitter.com/IAMKP/status/1442379293955346433?s=19
Thanks for this, Andra. I had no idea about this and will need to find the song somewhere. Love Karine Polwart.
Our old trees really do put our human lives into perspective when we think about who would've lived with them down the centuries. We ae so short-sighted, aren't we!
I found something, it's called Wind Blown. Not sure if it's what I remember, but it's beautiful. There's also a documentary about it she wrote: https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/m001q0l6/episodes/player
And yes I love her too, in case it wasn't obvious!
Tomorrow's viewing sorted! Trust you to turn up with the goods!
It's an audio doc, so even easier to fit into your day! And yes...I am also prone to falling down rabbit holes occasionally..😅
Even better!!!
Such a beautifully written, poignant and mournful piece, Lindsay. I'm glad you followed your instinct and shared this with us instead this week.
Sounds like a fascinating journey you've been on to piece together the stories of your home. So much you'll never know but so much that would have been forgotten if it wasn't for this research you're doing.
And now you're living and creating its next chapters.
(P.S I also love old maps, not that I'm any good at reading them)
Thank you for those lovely words, Janelle. I'm also glad I went with my gut! It's funny. I'm sure we all have dormant pieces on our hard drives just waiting to be shared at the right moment. I hadn't really known what to do with this piece until last week.
Oh my goodness I am so moved by your archival archeology, you are a wonderful custodian for the house - and the memory of the trees. Loved the naming of this pandemic phenomenon too, when "the unvoiced fears that oftentimes kept me from my sleep became socially understood." You've helped me realise that it is not weird to 'miss' those times when we had a truly shared language x
Thank you for letting me read this! Wonderful to 'meet' the Lowthers.
Glad you enjoyed it, Sue. I am obsessed by the past...