The garden, for long untended, was an overgrown riot of uninhibited flowers and weeds in which whirled, squeaked, rustled, - Gerald Durrell

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The garden, for long untended, was an overgrown riot of uninhibited flowers and weeds in which whirled, squeaked, rustled,

English
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About Gerald Durrell

Gerald "Gerry" Malcolm Durrell (7 January 1925 – 30 January 1995) was a naturalist, zookeeper, author, and television presenter, most famous for founding what is now called the Durrell Wildlife Conservation Trust on the Channel Island of Jersey and for writing a number of books based on his animal-collecting and conservation expeditions. He was the brother of Lawrence Durrell.

Biography information from Wikiquote

Also Known As

Native Name: Gerald Malcolm Durrell
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Additional quotes by Gerald Durrell

In those days, living as we did in the country, without the dubious benefits of radio or television, we had to rely on such primitive forms of amusement as books, quarrelling, parties, and the laughter of our friends, so naturally parties – particularly the more flamboyant ones – became red-letter days, preceded by endless preparations.

Apenas había tenido tiempo de identificarlo como un delfín cuando me encontré en medio de una manada. Se elevaron a mi alrededor suspirando con fuerza, brillantes sus negros lomos al arquearse a la luz de la luna. Debían ser unos ocho, y uno salió tan cerca que con nadar tres brazadas podría haber tocado su cabeza de ébano. Jugando entre saltos y resoplidos cruzaron la bahía, y yo les seguí a nado, contemplando cómo subían a la superficie, respiraban hondo y volvían a zambullirse, dejando sólo un creciente anillo de espuma en el agua arrugada. Finalmente, y como obedeciendo a una señal, se volvieron y enfilaron hacia la boca de la bahía y la lejana costa de Albania; yo me erguí para verlos alejarse, nadando por el blanco surco de luz, con un centelleo en el lomo al elevarse y dejarse caer pesadamente en el agua templada. Tras ellos quedó una estela de grandes burbujas que temblaban y relucían un instante cual lunas en miniatura antes de desaparecer bajo las ondas.

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Spiro was pointing at a gentle curve of hillside that rose from the glittering sea. The hill and the valleys around it were an eiderdown of olive groves that shone with a fishlike gleam where the breeze touched the leaves. Halfway up the slope, guarded by a group of tall, slim cypress trees, nestled a small strawberry-pink villa, like some exotic fruit lying in the greenery. The cypress trees undulated gently in the breeze, as if they were busily painting the sky a still brighter blue for our arrival.

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