".....let that great sweeping wind blow the fog out of her soul..." L.M. Montgomery (Anne of Green Gables) It's biting cold. Our first proper frosty morning, with a nice dollop of fog to boot. Layering up, I tip toe out into the meadow. I get very little time in my week to enjoy these . . .
"Breathe-in experience, breathe-out poetry." Muriel Rukeyser I'm delighted to be a Finalist in the 2016 Littlewoods Irish Blog Awards, of course I am. If you can hear a "but" coming that's because I sometimes feel a little like a square peg in a round hole in the blogging world. Blogging for me . . .
How did rural living get to be so exciting! When I started to blog in 2011 I didn't have a plan or any idea where I might be going. In my work life I had chosen to follow an activist path rather than an artistic one. Gradually over the those years, I began returning to creativity. What I never would have predicted was that I . . .
It was 2010, I was a bit tired and depressed about the world. The every day news seemed to reduce everything to the fact that human nature was ugly and hateful. Politics was hopeless too, having worked for social progress all my life, change seemed to happen at a snail's pace. Suicide was on the increase, many young people had nothing to . . .
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 the challenges of stagnation and lack of opportunity. We dealt with it all as best we could. But now? Enough already. Time for new dawns and gaudy . . .
"As a conscious act, we document our inner and outer selves, meticulously curating the facets of our existence, both the painful and the triumphant, that we wish to leave behind in the world. And from these archives we hope that others can learn – to look inside themselves, to reconsider their stereotypes of those around them, to remind . . .
It's been a busy time. The sun came out and that drew blossoms, bees and foxgloves into it's light. Then, against all the odds, it came out the next day too, and the day after that. And the sun is still shining as I write this. It is unusually fabulous weather in Ireland. Himself and myself keep ooohing and . . .
If you bear with me and my one minute video, you will share a precarious event, somewhere along the lane to Carrickavantry Lake. What you won't see is that I have a jagged briar wrapped around one leg which left tooth marks all over my calves, and that I am trying not to breathe in case I create camera shake. I've . . .
The maple tree, a present from my Dad, has always struggled with the prevailing south westerlies. Trees in Ireland are bent over towards the east, from gales blowing up from the Atlantic. This elegant maple has always been out of place in our wild and lazy couple of acres, home of beech, willow and pine trees. My father was . . .
“There is one spectacle grander than the sea, that is the sky; there is one spectacle grander than the sky, that is the interior of the soul.” ― Victor Hugo, Les Misérables On Thursday 12 May I will be opening an exhibition for photographer Kate Quinn in Ardkeen Hospital as part of the Healing Arts Trust project. . . .