Three summers ago, I typed the words “most probably correct” in closing an Earth Tongues piece titled 'Smiles and scowles: Puzzles in the Forest'. At that point, I felt that I had written all that I was ever going to on the subject of tourists experiencing curious English woodlands. But a recent encounter with an Italian couple, on a misty July morning, has set me penning this unexpected sequel.| Earth Tongues
When you have the privilege of quietly observing these cold-blooded miracles going about their lives—when you watch them exist—the need to find any other justification for their being starts to ebb away.| Earth Tongues
It was in the late 2000s that my son bought an old abandoned house in rural Ukraine, some 150 km from Kyiv. Unfortunately, we could not afford to buy something closer to the city; and we were seeking something “wild”.| Earth Tongues
It was in the late 2000s that my son bought an old abandoned house in rural Ukraine, some 150 km from Kyiv. Unfortunately, we could not afford to buy something closer to the city; and we were seeking something “wild”.| Earth Tongues
It was shortly after the winter solstice, eight years ago, when I did something that I had done nothing quite like before. Triggered by the cresting of a claustrophobia that had been growing for a decade-and-a-half, from the time I left my childhood home below the dark woods of a place named Dancing Green, it began with me shifting a sofa and an armchair tight against my living room wall and sliding an oak dining table across the carpet and into a corner.| Earth Tongues