It is 8.20am and the manboy sleeps high in the skybed while I sit in front of the fire, my fluffy robe and new slipper socks keeping me snug. I hope he wakes up soon so we can go to North Berwick and have adventures.
I had almost forgotten that I had signed on to take part in Ruth's "How I named my blog" day. If you visit her you will find a list of all the participating bloggers and Ruth's own story behind synch-ro-ni-zing.
The url for this blog is underthetonguerecipes because I love the sentiment of sensual mystery that it implies. Perhaps someday I will pen a cookbook with the same name.
The title of this blog, "Where there are no Chickadees," started with my first post back in February of 2006. I think I was homesick at the time, thinking about all the birds that migrate here from thousands of miles around, but how among all of those species, there would never be a chickadee. My life here is rich and wonderful, but I will always feel a sense of being "other." There will always be a gap where the chickadee would go.
Here is part of that first post. Be sure to pop over to Ruth's for more blog name stories, or consider writing your own.
I don't know the birds here. Small, brown bundles - not swallows, not sparrows. Their calls are all bubbles and springtime. Soon it will be morning in Canada. A girl, seven years old, will lie in her single wooden-framed bed and she'll hear the chickadees calling silk sounds into the cold snap air. Everything in the world will be tight with the freeze except for that sound, which is full and rich and sorrowful. She thinks she could hold that song in her cupped hands, let it swirl inside the flesh walls like a warm storm.
Frosty Leaves
3 hours ago
17 comments:
My goodness, Purest, your words are incredibly lush. Even the word "sorrowful" is like a sparrow, just lovely. You evoke that sadness that is beautiful, and that is a gift. You express that something that happens when we move or in any way our lives change. We lose something, and even if we are happy, there is also a chasm where the thing was we lost.
Now your blog name makes total sense, and I am very glad to know the story.
Thank you so much for participating, especially since you went away!
What a poet you are! I like the sound of the bird Chickadee!
And haha, I remember an old American teacher, standing at the harbour in Glückstadt, Germany, watching a boat pass by, and saying to himself, "I wonder if this boat will go to Punxsutawney...?" (That`s where he was from). Yes, I guess a bit of homesickness will never leave you.
Cheers from Usedom, Germany (my blog name explains itself).
I have been wondering about the blog title - it being so creatively nourishing, as is all your writing. I read your prose to nourish my soul and I am grateful every time I do - Thank You!
This explains so much -- thanks! (I keep the explanation for my blog title right in my profile header). I love the poetry with which you express yourself.
How beautiful your words are and wistful. I feel the pining. Even the name...where there are no chickadees...stirs the longing for things loved and lost.
Nice poetry, nice name! (... and of course I didn't know what chickadees meant before reading this, or let's say that I didn't know the English word for them).
Thanks to Ruth for bringing me here!
As a Canadian who loves the sound of the hardy chickadees, and whose family were all from Scotland, I'm delighted to find your blog.
Your writing is amazing, by the way.
I am married to Barry and echo his sentiments. We've both been to Scotland and missed the chickadees while we were there. (maybe the bagpipes and drums are too scary). =D You have a lovely blog here. It's nice to meet you.
What a lovely explanation !
You are such a talented and beautiful writer...
I hope to return often, and thanks for popping over to my place :)
I am surprised to learn that a chickadee is a type of bird. I use this word as a term of endearment, initially for my children, but now for older people. I have absolutely no idea where I picked it up from.
This is my attraction to this blog rather than your more Scottish blog. I like places where there ARE chickadees, however, in this case your writing is my chickadee.
I've always wondered about that. Thanks for letting us know. Guess I could have asked.LOL Your writing is truly poetry.
I love this. I never would have thought that the birds would be different, but of course, it only makes sense.
I totally forgot Ruth was doing this.
xooxo
I'm on a name your blog crawl, from Ruth...
I'm from the same city as Barry and Linda, but my family is from Glasgow. On my many visits there, that is one thing I've noticed - the lack of familiar birds.
nice tale of your blog name...keep holding that song...and remembering...smiles.
Wonderful and wistful! Ooh, and you know me, I always like the sense of being `other'. It reminds us of life's magic and the extraordinary in every single day. Hope you've been enjoying adventures. And, thank you for your kind words. All is well! xx
Your words crackle with bright energy.
Such lovely writing. I thought the blog name might be something like that.
I wrote about why mine is called what it is very early on. I've sometimes thought of linking back to the post by way of explanation, but I don't care that much for the post really. I've rather moved on from the voice it was in, and it's blogging in part that's caused me to.
It's a silly, irrelevant name really, but I'm fond of it. I actually like the shape of the words and the letters when I see them at the top of the blog, in a way that's divorced from what they represent, though I find I look out for box elder trees quite cheerfully.
I may take you up on this one after all.
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