A Crofter Dies edit 0.0001abu

[tectak]

I found it v readable, which is quite unusual, and probably not a compliment. The similes -and what a breath of fresh air, after so many .........metaphors!- were like a counter-point : partly Scottish and of the crofting counties, partly alien : not many sequoias north of the border. Yet the whole painted an old crofter to me, and I have been caught plenty of times by the tough old woody heather --an easy way to break an ankle!

Grammatically, the line preceding your brackets needs to end in a comma, and then the first 'like' needs to lose its capital, as otherwise, there is no main verb, and the phrase peters out. I say that, because this the Serious place, where normally I dare not breathe the rarefied air --- so that little comment is my entrance-ticket.

Be a pity if the Scots do drift off to nowhere.

Thank you abu,
You should come here far more often, even though I humbly disagree with you comma comment....though you reasoning is spot on I hoped that by using brackets I could introduce the concept explained to ella, that this was how I "heard" the tale around the open fire. Sequoias are the imported giants of the western highlands but I admit to stretching things a bit. I looked at the "likes" after your crit and noticed I had caps after semicolons in the last stanza. Corrected. Credited.
Best,
tectak

---

Your morbid obsession with aging and death is paying off in pearly tombstones on this retreat. I was afraid Donald duck had met his anatine end. I like your rhyming parenthetical device, as it becomes a pub song with almost a chorus. What, no fought-fraught stride to march in time with the other stanzas? Nice tale from the Coylet my friend./Chris

Hi chris,
No,not morbid at all A celebration of all that life is until it is not.
The tale was told and the toast was made. All seemed to know or know of Donald...or if not Donald some other lonely life sycophant who finally had enough and planned an end.
This old boy had counted down the weeks since Christmas and was found 100yds from his croft, stone cold...but he did not die in his bed...except metaphorically.
Best,
tectak

I may be of the Dylan Thomas school on dying, as voiced in his Villanelle:

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light...

Oh,and Chris, I forgot to mention (re your artistic endeavour), rhododendrons are the single most serious invasive life form in north west Scotland -apart from the English- costing millions in attempted eradication. Felling these monster shrubs leaves tons of logs awaiting disposal. I brought two chunks backs with me for a friend to carve. Each piece about 6inch. diam by 3 feet long weighs over 60 lbs. The wood is extremely hard and dense and to me, irresistable. I wish I could have brought back some larger pieces as it gets up to 12 inches diameter and more.