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 . . .
Reflections up on the roof
It's the witching hour, the gloaming. Patterns and shadows play across an amber horizon and as usual I am drawn towards the sky. Paddy who likes to predict tomorrows weather, is . . .
Lads!
I've always had a house full of them. Long limbed lads with soft chocolatey eyes and too many plans for wild escapades. Knotting up the house with twine, wool and bits of wood. Getting . . .
The stillness of a meditating Hare
It's 10 years ago, our first night in the new house and I can't sleep for excitement. It is such a quiet spot and all I can hear is the sound of the endless silence ringing in my ears. I can't stop myself listening and trying to hear something I can recognise. But in no time I am hearing things that are not there at . . .
……and just at that moment……
Special times come and go so fast. The one beautiful evening this summer. That last photo opportunity of the day. The final moments of the slithering sinking sun. After a pet day on Rossbeigh Strand, that elusive sun is tracked until it's very last golden seconds of light. Lads stop playing football on the sand and . . .
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 . . .
Sisters and summer light
Have just spent 5 wonderful days with not one, not two, but all three of my beautiful sisters. During a grey rainy July they brought such a blast of summer light into my life. Not that there was much sun (!) it was more their own warm glow, their laughing eyes, those common intertwining threads all the way back to our shared . . .
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 . . .
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 . . .
Foxglove time!
Ireland's most spectacular wild flower is blooming prolifically on the lane today. The Foxglove, Digitalis purpurea, An Lus Mór, reaching up to 150 cm high and hosting up to 75 individual flowers on each stem is everywhere. I remember so well as a child putting the little flowers on each finger as faery hats or . . .
