After the devastation of the storm, the tree may be gone but the crocuses are still blooming unharmed beneath it...... . . .
And just when it seemed like the relentless greyness would never return to light, under the dark compost, luscious rhubarb was being reborn. It distracted me from the gloom....... Green shoots, seeking light, embracing shade and living in glorious colour........ . . .
Myself and the neighbours sky watch and throw our wishes for light into every short encounter. From "there's a stretch in the evenings" to "as long as it's bright" we are guilty of the most repetitive weather conversations that can be had. From the top of the hill you can see the sea. In ten minutes on a dark . . .
I've been laid up with a resistant bacterial infection which has made me housebound beyond even what I can bear. So photographing the view from the window is limited by the lens capacity and the increasing greyness of winter..... I've amused myself by seeing how far I can reach . . .
Do you share a memory of lying under trees, watching the light flicker through the leaves? Did you throw yourself onto the grass and stare into the sky? Did you roll in leaves and kick them down the path on the way home from school, or half close your eyes to see faeries dancing between the branches and the . . .
Needing balm, something to soothe and cool, I turned again to the simple task of looking. Fired up and blasted off like a rocket that morning, by the end of the day I was dragging myself around. Too many stories had caught my eye. There were so many burrows to explore. Strategies and crucial questions filled my brain. The simple task of looking . . .
We are wandering close to the edge of our future. While the International Monetary Fund pack their bags we in Ireland are left with much unfinished business. My usually upbeat tribe of creatives are struggling to stay grounded. Looking for direction, going up blind alleys, flying kites. There are flashes of . . .
As November takes hold, maybe winter begins? The community on the hill and here on the lane are winding down, burrowing in behind closed doors. Close to the window there are white roses budding and flowering, in their own rhythm. Sure they don't seem to know if it's day or night! And in the workshop there are sounds of tapping and . . .
Does it feel darker inside when it's darker outside? Do you ever wonder why the earth turns away again from the sun, when that's what we crave? Or do you feel the sheer lack of control, of authority of consultation? It just does. No body asks us what we think. The seasons loop around us. Still. Tonight I can see down to . . .
We had far too many and the plan was to make a liqueur. Blackcurrants make a wonderful boozy drink called Cassis, perfect for Christmas, when it should be ready for drinking. KIR Royale, a mixture of Cassis and Champagne will never EVER be forgotten, once tasted. It's the perfect cocktail at a party for two............preferably in . . .