Your essay reminded me of this beautiful romantic and animistic poem from Gerard Hopkins about a burn (a river) in his scottish country side. You can feel echoes the marvel and reverence that you are depicting in your essay.
Inversnaed
This darksome burn, horseback brown,
His rollrock highroad roaring down,
In coop and in comb the fleece of his foam
Flutes and low to the lake falls home.
A windpuff-bonnet of fawn-froth
Turns and twindles over the broth
Of a pool so pitchblack, fell-frowning,
It rounds and rounds Despair to drowning.
Degged with dew, dappled with dew,
Are the groins of the braes that the brook treads through,
I loved this essay Alia. Thanks for taking me on a water journey with you, all the way to the coast. Imagery was beautiful, you are a brilliant storyteller. Good luck with your creative projects. Kate :)
My wife and I are also blessed to live right by a great river—the mighty Upper Niagara. Technically it’s not a river but a strait connecting the Great Lakes Erie and Ontario. It’s over a mile wide where we live, deep, with a swift current that pours over Niagara Falls and gets swifter and deeper where it’s called the Lower Niagara. Marine biologists tell us that thousand-pound sturgeon prowl the depths of the channel between Grand Island and the Canadian shore. These immense, shy creatures may have been there for more than a million years, and since they are a protected species I hope they’re going to be there for a million more. North of the Falls the Niagara makes a sharp bend and has carved a great circular basin called the Whirlpool. Objects, sadly sometimes the corpses of suicides, often get trapped in the Whirlpool, going round and round for days until finally they find themselves in the swift, straight channel that runs almost due north, spitting them out into Lake Ontario near the towns of Lewiston on the American shore and Queenston on the Canadian side. Twenty years ago we used to climb down the trail from the outdoor theater Artpark on the American side and enjoy a bagged lunch sitting on the great flats while the deadly, swift waters rushed past not ten feet away and the Spanish Aerocar rode majestically on its cables two hundred feet overhead, waving at the tourists looking at us from the windows. We’ve spent many a happy spring, summer or fall day hiking in the cool, shady river gorge or picknicking and sightseeing on the green parklands, two hundred feet or more above the twenty-plus mile per hour current. Thanks for this lovely article. I just listened to the audio at four in the morning and the thoughts and dreams expressed have given me something much more edifying to ponder than my aching back. My initial reaction upon hearing that Etymology Monday was gone is that “Alia Parker, you’re dead to me,” but that’s just my cranky old hardheaded self. Of course I don’t really feel that way about a person who has been able to dig so deeply and lovingly into such a prosaic thing as water and leave me stunned by the power of her words. Thank you for your research and writing about all manner of things, and be assured that somehow I will survive without the regular comfort of EM. Congratulations on your accolades and wishing you all success with your podcast! ❤️ — Rafael.
Oh dear, I hope you are getting some sleep, Rafael, or finding times of relief.
The Niagara system is an amazing one. I do hope those sturgeon are down there. Sad how the surest way of survival is to be somewhere humans can't reach.
Yeah, I suspected I might be dead to you by calling it quits on Etymology Monday, although I'm glad to hear I'm only half dead, still rising zombie-like at 4am in the morning to haunt you with water stories :) Thank you for your support of EM, although it wasn't gaining much traction with other readers, so it was best I reshuffled my priorities.
And thank you for your kind words, Rafael. They're much appreciated.
Another excellent listen Alia, thanks. Got the impression of us all being inside a great drop of ancient water floating about in space. Not that thrilled to share the space with six meter snakes but there you go, such is life (especially in Australia!).
Awwww, but they're 'rainbow' serpents; they sounds so friendly. I'm sure they'd only want to wrap their long body around you and give you a very, very tight cuddle, haha.
They may be extinct, but they still appear to us today at those special moments when the sun shines through the water vapour in the sky :)
Lovely account of this remarkable compound that connects us all. And it flows all the better with your mellifluous voice 😊.
I’ve just spent the morning walking along our brown Yarra or Birrarung, from where I’m staying next to Dight’s Falls. Watching the black cockies squabbling with the currawongs on the cliffs, you wouldn’t know you were in the middle of a city of nearly six million. Which is only here because of the river and the bay. I’ve not got to Naracoorte yet: on the list though!
That sounds like a lovely part of Melbourne to be in. Enjoy! What would a city be without a river, hey.
The caves at Naracoorte were very interesting. There are so many fossils there they really bring the megafauna to life. Our visit to Budj Bim didn't go as planned. The centre was closed on the day we were there (I didn't realise it was separate to the National Park, but lesson learned) but we enjoyed a lovely walk around the crater and then the rain hit again, so that will be a trip for another day.
I love this essay Alia. In a short read (I love the audio too) you conveyed the majestic course of the rivers and a drop of water. This reminded me of Elif Shafik’s novel There Are Rivers in the Sky. You have me now reading more on the Murray and deepening my appreciation and marvel for water. Best wishes with your new project.
Thank you for your kind words Dianne. I'm yet to read There Are Rivers In The Sky, but it's on my (very long) reading list. And I'm glad to hear I have inspired an interest in the Murray-Darling. There's plenty in it to fascinate 🙂
Your essay reminded me of this beautiful romantic and animistic poem from Gerard Hopkins about a burn (a river) in his scottish country side. You can feel echoes the marvel and reverence that you are depicting in your essay.
Inversnaed
This darksome burn, horseback brown,
His rollrock highroad roaring down,
In coop and in comb the fleece of his foam
Flutes and low to the lake falls home.
A windpuff-bonnet of fawn-froth
Turns and twindles over the broth
Of a pool so pitchblack, fell-frowning,
It rounds and rounds Despair to drowning.
Degged with dew, dappled with dew,
Are the groins of the braes that the brook treads through,
Wiry heathpacks, flitches of fern,
And the beadbonny ash that sits over the burn.
What would the world be, once bereft
Of wet and wildness? Let them be left,
O let them be left, wildness and wet;
Long live the weeds and the wilderness yet.
I really enjoyed that poem, Andredge. Wild with movement and life. Thanks for sharing.
I loved this essay Alia. Thanks for taking me on a water journey with you, all the way to the coast. Imagery was beautiful, you are a brilliant storyteller. Good luck with your creative projects. Kate :)
You're too kind. Thank you, Kate.
My wife and I are also blessed to live right by a great river—the mighty Upper Niagara. Technically it’s not a river but a strait connecting the Great Lakes Erie and Ontario. It’s over a mile wide where we live, deep, with a swift current that pours over Niagara Falls and gets swifter and deeper where it’s called the Lower Niagara. Marine biologists tell us that thousand-pound sturgeon prowl the depths of the channel between Grand Island and the Canadian shore. These immense, shy creatures may have been there for more than a million years, and since they are a protected species I hope they’re going to be there for a million more. North of the Falls the Niagara makes a sharp bend and has carved a great circular basin called the Whirlpool. Objects, sadly sometimes the corpses of suicides, often get trapped in the Whirlpool, going round and round for days until finally they find themselves in the swift, straight channel that runs almost due north, spitting them out into Lake Ontario near the towns of Lewiston on the American shore and Queenston on the Canadian side. Twenty years ago we used to climb down the trail from the outdoor theater Artpark on the American side and enjoy a bagged lunch sitting on the great flats while the deadly, swift waters rushed past not ten feet away and the Spanish Aerocar rode majestically on its cables two hundred feet overhead, waving at the tourists looking at us from the windows. We’ve spent many a happy spring, summer or fall day hiking in the cool, shady river gorge or picknicking and sightseeing on the green parklands, two hundred feet or more above the twenty-plus mile per hour current. Thanks for this lovely article. I just listened to the audio at four in the morning and the thoughts and dreams expressed have given me something much more edifying to ponder than my aching back. My initial reaction upon hearing that Etymology Monday was gone is that “Alia Parker, you’re dead to me,” but that’s just my cranky old hardheaded self. Of course I don’t really feel that way about a person who has been able to dig so deeply and lovingly into such a prosaic thing as water and leave me stunned by the power of her words. Thank you for your research and writing about all manner of things, and be assured that somehow I will survive without the regular comfort of EM. Congratulations on your accolades and wishing you all success with your podcast! ❤️ — Rafael.
Oh dear, I hope you are getting some sleep, Rafael, or finding times of relief.
The Niagara system is an amazing one. I do hope those sturgeon are down there. Sad how the surest way of survival is to be somewhere humans can't reach.
Yeah, I suspected I might be dead to you by calling it quits on Etymology Monday, although I'm glad to hear I'm only half dead, still rising zombie-like at 4am in the morning to haunt you with water stories :) Thank you for your support of EM, although it wasn't gaining much traction with other readers, so it was best I reshuffled my priorities.
And thank you for your kind words, Rafael. They're much appreciated.
Another excellent listen Alia, thanks. Got the impression of us all being inside a great drop of ancient water floating about in space. Not that thrilled to share the space with six meter snakes but there you go, such is life (especially in Australia!).
Thanks, that was great.
Awwww, but they're 'rainbow' serpents; they sounds so friendly. I'm sure they'd only want to wrap their long body around you and give you a very, very tight cuddle, haha.
They may be extinct, but they still appear to us today at those special moments when the sun shines through the water vapour in the sky :)
Thanks Jonathan, I'm glad you enjoyed this piece.
Lovely account of this remarkable compound that connects us all. And it flows all the better with your mellifluous voice 😊.
I’ve just spent the morning walking along our brown Yarra or Birrarung, from where I’m staying next to Dight’s Falls. Watching the black cockies squabbling with the currawongs on the cliffs, you wouldn’t know you were in the middle of a city of nearly six million. Which is only here because of the river and the bay. I’ve not got to Naracoorte yet: on the list though!
Congratulations on the project!
Haha, thank you Steve ☺️
That sounds like a lovely part of Melbourne to be in. Enjoy! What would a city be without a river, hey.
The caves at Naracoorte were very interesting. There are so many fossils there they really bring the megafauna to life. Our visit to Budj Bim didn't go as planned. The centre was closed on the day we were there (I didn't realise it was separate to the National Park, but lesson learned) but we enjoyed a lovely walk around the crater and then the rain hit again, so that will be a trip for another day.
Ah, darn. Very much worth the trip. The Gunditjmara guides are very knowledgeable, and as I think I mentioned, the food is great
After camping, I was really looking forward to that cafe, too. 😂
I love this essay Alia. In a short read (I love the audio too) you conveyed the majestic course of the rivers and a drop of water. This reminded me of Elif Shafik’s novel There Are Rivers in the Sky. You have me now reading more on the Murray and deepening my appreciation and marvel for water. Best wishes with your new project.
Thank you for your kind words Dianne. I'm yet to read There Are Rivers In The Sky, but it's on my (very long) reading list. And I'm glad to hear I have inspired an interest in the Murray-Darling. There's plenty in it to fascinate 🙂