The Rosebay Willowherb are at the end of this cycle. At their height they are pinker and deeper than a girly pink. In early autumn they go to seed in a fluffy fashion and by December they are gnarled fists of skeletal remains clinging to their stalks. In clumps along the ditches, they mark time with me, and . . .
Fodder for the soul
Are we sharing similar thoughts as we watch the cattle being fed? Fodder. Winter. Action. The structure of everything is revealed by winter, so I am aware of this Robin following me. It's a territorial thing with Robins, they own the place. Making my way along the lane, he continually swoops on ahead always landing in . . .
Lost in leafy light
Do you share a memory of lying under trees, watching the light flicker through the leaves? Did you throw yourself onto the grass and stare into the sky? Did you roll in leaves and kick them down the path on the way home from school, or half close your eyes to see faeries dancing between the branches and the . . .
The cool balm of rain
Needing balm, something to soothe and cool, I turned again to the simple task of looking. Fired up and blasted off like a rocket that morning, by the end of the day I was dragging myself around. Too many stories had caught my eye. There were so many burrows to explore. Strategies and crucial questions filled my brain. The simple task of looking . . .
Taking flight
The family of swans living on the lake are nurturing their fly-by skills at the moment. The resident small family also seem to be babysitting 5 extra cygnets for the last few weeks. Where have these new babes come from and why? I don't know....... Every day they circle the lake in flight formation. I am usually so drawn to . . .
The edge of our future
We are wandering close to the edge of our future. While the International Monetary Fund pack their bags we in Ireland are left with much unfinished business. My usually upbeat tribe of creatives are struggling to stay grounded. Looking for direction, going up blind alleys, flying kites. There are flashes of . . .
November rhythms and roses
As November takes hold, maybe winter begins? The community on the hill and here on the lane are winding down, burrowing in behind closed doors. Close to the window there are white roses budding and flowering, in their own rhythm. Sure they don't seem to know if it's day or night! And in the workshop there are sounds of tapping and . . .
Faery creatures dancing in rainbows of dew
When you are out there early in the morning, you see things. Mostly you see the usual things but once in a while nature surprises. These tiny rainbows within rainbows are a combination of dawn light, frosty dew and gorse spikes. Moments later, as the sun comes up, the dancing faery creatures fade. We all have our . . .
The sky is on fire in the west
Just now the October sky is on fire in the west. . . .
Where there’s muck there’s money
There's an Irish expression that where there's muck there's money. The last week has seen the return of muck to these parts but we are still waiting to see the money. Crops have been harvested, grass growth is slowing, the clocks went back last night, rain is falling heavily and the local pot holes are filling up to the brim with water. . . .
