Evening is drawing in. The water has settled into calm stillness. Tonight the warm hearts of my sisters in wildness stir new possibilities. We are seeking a kind of wild time . . .
It's hard to stay on track with what's authentic and enriching for the soul. At times everything gets out of whack. Since our economic crash we have lived with . . .
It's usually early morning. A time when I am half asleep. A time when I am mulling over so many "important things". Maybe during breakfast, this is the moment when they decide to . . .
Are we sharing similar thoughts as we watch the cattle being fed? Fodder. Winter. Action. The structure of everything is revealed by winter, so I am aware of this Robin . . .
When you are out there early in the morning, you see things. Mostly you see the usual things but once in a while nature surprises. These tiny rainbows within rainbows are . . .
She edges across the Irish sky from the south west. Traveling on the wind, changing moment to moment. From first thing in the morning we . . .
It was a slow parting, the end of many years of decline. Autumn came to echo this. Slowly, deliberately, and without an exit strategy. A one way ticket. And while he waited for the end, I photographed . . .
He gathers windfalls and leaves them on the white washed gate post. I used to think it was an invitation to help yourself. Now I know it's a stash he's keeps for the horses. As the evening sun . . .
In her garden it's the sweet perfume that I remember. Her little bed of roses. She broke her back in a car accident in the 1930's and was bent over and frail. We used to laugh saying she was so . . .
It's one of those nights, summer turning to autumn, when the sun sends sideways glances at the earth and turns the day's heat into shades of pink and gold. We are walking on the cliffs at Garrarus and . . .