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In these nine evocative essays, Barbara Hurd explores the seductive allure of bogs, swamps, and wetlands. Hurd's forays into the land of carnivorous plants, swamp gas, and bog men provide fertile ground for rich thoughts about mythology, literature, Eastern spirituality, and human longing. In her observations of these muddy environments, she finds ample metaphor for human creativity, imagination, and fear.… (altro)
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If there were druids whose temples were the oak groves, my temple is the swamp. —Henry David Thoreau
Dedica
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For my children, Tara and Adam
Incipit
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It is March and I have left the tidy community of Finzel perched on the ridge of Little Savage Mountain, left its black roads, its tavern, the Community Fire Hall, and small, dark houses, each with its plume of smoke rising into the winter air, turned east and dropped into the white valley of Finzel Swamp.
Citazioni
Ultime parole
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You lean against the sloped sides of an invisible vortex of fog, and music pours down from the sky and you kneel in the wet bulging earth, algae clinging to your skin, and you pray that at least once in your life every pore will open, that what knows no boundary between land and water will know no boundary at the edge of your body, that what lies riddled and pocked and hungry within you will fill and fill and fill.
In these nine evocative essays, Barbara Hurd explores the seductive allure of bogs, swamps, and wetlands. Hurd's forays into the land of carnivorous plants, swamp gas, and bog men provide fertile ground for rich thoughts about mythology, literature, Eastern spirituality, and human longing. In her observations of these muddy environments, she finds ample metaphor for human creativity, imagination, and fear.