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. . . .
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 . . .
Out of an Irish mist
The mist has been down for a few days now. It pours in from the sea when summer conditions dis-improve. It gets into your brain, slows down your thinking and creates a cotton wool world . . .
Dawn embrace
It's early, 4 am. It's going to be a good day, the darkness is a kind of blue. A spooky mist is rising from the lake. As the sun starts to brighten in the east it gradually takes on a warm tinge. It is very cold but the wafts of mist promise the warmth of summer. The small cauldron of the lake is steaming into life this May morning. Two swans . . .
