The ice has gone for now and the lake is deserted and quiet. During December last year I walked around its perimeter pacing out the last days of his illness. There was nothing surer than the beginning of the . . .
Winter sets in and the elves are pretty busy….
Winter has set in and I am now counting the weeks until the Solstice and the gradual return of light. In the dark evenings I burn candles to cheer our hearts, cosy up with a blanket and find I am craving chocolate! On waking, I love the silvery glow and a particular kind of stillness that announces another frosty . . .
It’s dark, late and time is running out….
It's dark, it's late and the November evening light is seeping away. We had no summer and now out of season, a patch of hedgerow is coming back into bloom. While hoping to snap berries and rosehips, here I am taking dark photos of blackberry blossoms and buds. Sprinkles of life in the shadowy withering tangle....Late . . .
The beauty of the web……
After a year of blogging anonymously I agonised over the decision to "go public." It was then I realised that anonymity was not only my shyness, it was also the fear of not being . . .
Love
The swans are back on the lake for the winter. Just one pair, they come every year. I have to go deeper into the forest to glimpse them up close. At first they are hidden by the reeds but as I step into the water they stir and swim towards me, elegantly posing side by side. They mate for life. As I have. My mate is building . . .
An unlikely pair of romantics
The evening light is warm as toast casting long terracotta shadows on the woodland grasses. The Robin is back! The bare branches allow me to follow him along the track. But . . .
Ages older and deeper
Every day it's the first thing I see from any window in the house. If I am having breakfast it catches my eye, twinkling in the morning light. Later I could be on the phone chatting and I am drawn suddenly to notice the lake darkening and soaking up every shard of light into it's depths. At night when I close the curtains on . . .
Raindrops
When the rain rolls in from the western Atlantic we can be enveloped for days. The greyness hangs over the whole island like a wet blanket. We struggle to . . .
Windswept, freckly and fairly wrinkly
While I am standing beneath this Sycamore, besotted with its golden glow, leaves are passing away in front of my eyes. A little death is taking place as each one turns, decays and falls. Autumn and it's peaceful slowing brings the inevitable truth to mind. The wrinkling up of my smily eyes like a crisping leaf, curling and fraying at . . .
Who me?
With giddy excitement and a big beam I learn that I have become a finalist in the Irish Blog Awards 2012 Never before in the finals of anything I have mixed feelings! But hey I am rising to this . . .
