Spring has been a difficult time. It's not just the social isolating, or the threat the pandemic poses. Our family lost our beloved Step Mother to the Covid 19 virus on April 18th. I've written 4 pieces for the Waterford News and Star since the lockdown. They meander through . . .
Times are strange for sure. While Spring is trying it's best to break through we are also struggling with what Covid -19 has brought us. Anxiety and isolation mostly. Saint Patrick's Day has been cancelled. We all have to have private parades and parties. We wash our hands and cross our . . .
In the bleak midwinter Frosty wind made moan, Earth stood hard as iron, Water like a stone; Snow had fallen, Snow on snow, In the bleak midwinter, Long ago. Christina Rossetti I hope you have a wonderful cosy mid winter celebration. Love . . .
I know pheasants are mostly bred in captivity and therefore can almost be regarded as predators in our wildlife sanctuaries. But somehow, I can't discriminate and here they are, still living in our patch. Charlie is the big fella and he arrived last year. His . . .
I'm reposting this from 2017 as although I seem to be the last to know, I'm on a bit of a break from the blog. Hope you are enjoying your summer wherever you are. Rosebay Willow Herb, Foxgloves, Blackberry blossom, Pale Flax, Meadowsweet, Thistles, Daisies......We've been talking about . . .
There’s a Girl Inside There is a girl inside. She is randy as a wolf. She will not walk away and leave these bones to an old woman. She is a green tree in a forest of kindling. She is a green girl in a used poet. She has waited patient as a . . .
And everything is slower here. I have to keep reminding myself. This ice will melt. The evenings will lighten. The soil will warm. Spring will come again. And the slower it is, the closer it binds time to me. Binding it tight. Hundreds of seconds and minutes of this time . . .
"This earth is my sister; I love her daily grace, her silent daring and how loved I am, how we admire this strength in each other, all that we have lost, all that we have suffered, all that we know: we are stunned by this beauty and I do not forget; what she is to me, . . .
Death or the long sleep, is a subject that I am endlessly interested in. There is such beautiful decay around us in everyday winter fading. Maybe we are divided into those who yearn for Spring and those who are slower to leave Winter? Confinement has shrunk my world . . .
My dear old Dad loved Christmas and did his very best to provide a magical morning of surprises under the tree. During the years when he was left alone with four girls under the age of 9, his inner child often went shopping for the kind of presents that any small boy would . . .