I was talking with an old friend, some one who has been around the block with me over the years. As with most women of a certain age, we got to the heart of the matter pretty quickly. I realised that for more than 20 years I have been inside the kind of job that steals your voice. Now I have loved this job, . . .
The land of the free?
Dinner was to be at 7 but it was now late. I was staying in a small Bed and Breakfast on Inis Meáin, one of the Aran Islands. Guests were chatting and opening bottles of wine when our hostess came out of the kitchen almost in tears. Earlier in the day her husband had been helicoptered to hospital with a broken leg and she was simply overwhelmed . . .
Following the edge
We had just arrived in Northern Brittany. Our first stop was to be a field on the edge of the Ile Callot. You get there by crossing a causeway at low tide. When the tide returns and the day trippers go home, there are only a few occupied houses and the wilderness left. And ourselves of course, camping out under the stars. We woke on . . .
Using your voice
Last year the Editor of the News and Star invited me to write a guest column for this paper. She found me, because I blog away quietly every week on a site called Foxglove Lane (foxglovelane.com) As what she was asking seemed to be a one-off adventure, I wrote about some of my passions; creativity, imagination and happiness. Within a . . .
The watery womb of chaos
“I wish I could close my eyes and be blown into dust and nothingness, feel all my thoughts disperse like dandelion fluff drifting off on the wind.” ― Lauren Oliver, Delirium Nothingness There was a whole lot of nothingness going on down at the River Anne, in the Anne Valley. Morning mist rising, the sound of birds in song, water . . .
Bokeh
Early morning light at it's best with sprinklings of frosty dew drops. From my window I won't miss a thing that moves or changes. Small birds hang around on the willows, waiting for the breakfast I will serve them shortly. I've noticed the February sunrise is at the perfect angle. The dimmer switch is being turned up slowly. The sun . . .
Finding a word for 2017
In his recent Christmas message, Brendan Cox the widower of murdered MP Jo Cox, cried out for tolerance and more caring between people. “We have more in common than what divides us, it’s a time to reach out to those who hold different views” he said. Is this the only option left to us all after such a negative and frightening year of change? To try . . .
Photographing evening skies
There's something about photographing evening skies that never fails to raise my spirits. Tonight, driving home into the western sunset, I had to stop to capture the ever changing canvas, so many times along the way. As the sun dropped towards the horizon the colours intensified and deepened. It was a welcome distraction . . .
Heart
She is centre stage. Claiming her space amongst the other small birds, gritty and determined. Her tiny feathers are ruffled from the sheer speed of her arrival. And in seconds she is gone. I am watching her and mulling over my word for 2017. I notice the thumping of my heart. It is beating over 100,000 times each . . .
Ripening
Six weeks have passed and I am still fairly house bound. At this stage I am crawling the four walls, that common form of cabin fever, but I think I am finally on the mend. Over the last few months I have had a stash of ripening seeds under my desk. They are not for planting but for . . .
