Dublin, a series of small villages linked by canals, bridges and some tree lined Dublin suburbs. Downhill into town, uphill home in the evenings. From here, the Dublin Mountains are a snowy backdrop behind the clock tower and the glistening dome of the church in Rathmines. From here a few minutes by bike in either direction and . . .
Relentlessly snowy Berlin
I'm just back from a relentlessly snowy Berlin. 10 times the size of Paris with an ever growing and developing creative community. Iconic monuments, grungy clubs and cafes, graffiti on everything, and always reminders of the Cold War. They may have tried to kill off diversity in the 1930's but today Berlin is one of most multi-cultural . . .
The Mare’s breakfast!
When would he arrive with breakfast? The snow had settled as it rarely ever does. The hours were passing and the icy grass was none too appetising. The mare heard the engine before the foal even realised that at last he was on his way. Bale after bale of warm hay, thrown over the hedge. Steam rose from it as they both dived . . .
Snowy dawn!
As the evening draws in, the snow settles and I ponder the long trip I have to make that next day. The forecast suggests it will linger long enough for a dawn ramble before I head off. Just as the sun rises I am out on the snowy lane. One set of tyre tracks tell me that my neighbour has already made it up the hill. This . . .
For the week that’s in it……a real Irish pub……
Come in out of the cold ya poor craythur! Smoke from the fire and a kettle on the boil. The clock tick tocks. A lad sits at the counter. He dropped in "just for one" to his home away from home...... You know they don't serve "coffee" so don't even ask. This is where my Grandfather drank a pint of Guinness and a . . .
Her labour
Her labour Salty finger tips cling to aching wrist. Pumping elbows, hang from cliff hanger shoulders. Taut chords strangle the hardened neck. Delivering a weighty head through brain blowing tedium. Leaves tangle and soak her skin. Cool on cheeks, all hot from google alerts. Eyeballs . . .
Always an apprentice
; Are we always beginners? I remember setting a goal to try blogging for three years. Now two thirds of the way there, am I getting somewhere? The inspiration was to have an online studio, a sacred sharing space for an aspiring light seeker. A soothing cushion between a harsher world that any introvert would prefer . . .
Inner warmth and woolly hats
She and I ran around a field excited by our newly wellied feet. We climbed to the top of a hill liberated from tartan skirts and white socks. We went "skating" on a frozen lake in our first corduroy jeans. She fell through the ice. I brought her home, shivering. She and I went climbing trees. We were swinging from an old Elder, hanging upside down . . .
They say she never bakes…..
Liking and friending. Linking and posting. Scraping the barrel. Tidying and preening, until every box is ticked. The laptop to the flickering screen. The keyboard to the twitter machine. Perfectly formed in 140 characters or less. With pink highlights and lipstick to match. Colour synched, paypal'd and photoshopped. With tips, lots of tips. . . .
Looking into each others eyes
My children once explained to me that although animals share our world, we treat them as inferior instead of as different. O yes they argued humans think we are vastly superior, so clever, so advanced. But we are wrong they said, all the beings on the planet are just different versions of life, intelligence, adaptation. Each have . . .
