Glimpses

The perfect follow-up to my post on the kingfisher that flashed by unexpectedly is this post from Andrea over at Harvesting Hecate. She wonderfully captures the thrill of a glimpse – in her case also a kingfisher – and how a glimpse can be a tantalizing suggestion of something more, or a complete blessing in itself. And as Andrea points out: “often the glimpses are the moments I remember the most.”

Harvesting Hecate

A story begins with a glimpse.  A glimpse into another world, a glimpse of a character, a glimpse of a narrative.  Sometimes that is all it remains: a half-caught moment that will never become anything more.  A scrawled fragment in a notebook destined never to become a tale.  The trace of a fiction that won’t be fulfilled.

On a gloomy day seeping drizzle my dog and I walk through the dene, challenging the dregs of February.  There is nobody else here.  The world is hushed and the silence pulses with promise.  I stand at the edge of the burn, captivated by the way the gold of the reeds lights up the gloom.  The day feels enchanted and as far as I’m concerned the enchantment is in just this: the reeds and the silence.  But as we walk the meander of the burn, I glimpse the flicker of a vibrant tail.  I gasp, because I’m sure I…

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