Here comes the time of the year for going on the road and visiting friends out west along the Wild Atlantic Way . This time we will amble from Killary Harbour in County Mayo down to to the Dingle Peninsula in County Kerry. From east to west, north to south and back again. We are also getting ready for the annual trip to France . . .
Would you?
Would you be mad for that little speck of rainbow in the deep rain filled sky? Or this bush, with its brazen head of golden curls? And would you love how he made a fence from sawn up trees, lining them up on the ditch like children, posing for family snaps? And would you be giddy about the woolliness of those lads? How they make . . .
Once in a pinkish moon
This morning, the beauty of another day. Small things, coffee, toast, silence. And how amazing is fruit? Having choice? Banana or blueberry? Egg or beans........? The sun in the east, the full moon setting in the west. The faintest pastel pink in the sky at the horizon. The same view but on a new day. A day anyone would get up out of . . .
There’s grey and then there’s grey……
There's grey and then there's grey in it. Thin milky grey that comes down as a low cloud, covering up beauty and bringing the whole country to it's knees for the lack of light. The thundering grey of darkening skies and seas. Soaked up by the eye, bringing softness and balm to the soul. Today I floated in grey as if a slate . . .
Alone with my thoughts
On a small strip of land between the sea and the wall of the house, this beautiful horse has been casually grazing. He is a constant presence and from the house can be seen peeping up over the stone wall, his dappled coat blending in perfectly with the misty landscape.If ever an animal or a scene was . . .
….and in no time I began to forget…..
There were 5 kinds of weather in that sky and the mist hanging over the mountains made the beach disappear in an endless haze. Sun filtered through from time to time and the surfing classes, picnics and family gatherings continued, in spite of sprinkles of rain, thickening fog or sand blowing..... We could no longer . . .
You wouldn’t get the likes of it in Killarney!
He was walking towards me from further on up the hill. We often have conversations about the state of the country, we grumble about the weather or maybe share the latest from the children who live abroad. I usually stop photographing for the duration of the chat and sometimes we walk on a little together. He has never, ever, mentioned the . . .
