I don't necessarily think of myself as an older person. But there you are, I am an older person. So when I was asked by Garter Lane Arts Centre to facilitate a photography . . .
Darkness, damp nature, gnarled old trees. I'm no witch, but looking into this leafy pool, I fall under its spell. Then down onto the woody undergrowth with me. And the power of the place, the . . .
Six weeks have passed and I am still fairly house bound. At this stage I am crawling the four walls, that common form of cabin fever, but I think I am finally on the . . .
Amidst the bizarreness of the current world, I went off as happy as you like to replace my ten year driving licence which had finally expired. It's a funny experience, the Driving Licence . . .
In our house, it was common enough to find girls lying down in dark rooms listening to poetry sung by an older, Canadian man. My own battered copy of Songs of Leonard Cohen, with the sad . . .
There's an exquisite late blooming iris outside my window. It catches the precious dewey light and as everything around it is dying back, grabs the spotlight at . . .
"I think of when I was in high school in the 1940s: the white girls got their hair crinkled up by chemicals and heat so it would curl, and the black girls got their hair mashed flat by . . .
"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 . . .
Old graveyards can be places of great wild beauty. This one, St. Mary's Church of Ireland in Dungarvan, County Waterford, fronts onto the shoreline and is blanketed in wildflowers. Did some . . .
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 . . .