Imagine it's a beautiful spring day and you spot a fresh water pool glinting in the sunlight? Imagine wanting to dive right in and feel the water splashing around you, clearing your head and lightening the load? Then just do . . .
Winter reveals what's underneath; a rusty gate usually overwhelmed by briars, the cattle shed at the ruined cottage. Tantalising glimpses into what is out of reach during the leafier seasons. Strangely today it was all in shades of blue, or at least that's how I . . .
He is bursting with confidence. I am probably standing too close to his territory so there is an air show going on from the top of a pile of rubble to the rose tree in the farm yard. At one point he lands on the post in front of my nose. His face says.....YIKES and he takes off . . .
You can BUY this image here I sometimes stand in the farmyard at the lake waiting for the Robin. Truth is she prefers a dung heap to a bird table so this is where I will always encounter her. Early in the morning, later in the evening it doesn't matter, she will always . . .
Every year I choose a word to guide me on my way. Last January I chose Pilgrimage and set out to undertake "a long journey especially one undertaken as a quest, or for a votive purpose, to pay homage." As an agnostic, sitting on the fence as to . . .
We inhaled the scent of herbs on the soft balmy air. Occasional yelps of joy bounced across the lake as youngsters leapt into the water from the dodgy bough that leans out over the deeper water. The Irish feel such deep relaxation in our bodies when the temperatures soar. So we . . .
Spring comes early here. Delicate and lemony leaves fill the hedgerows. By the time we return, foxgloves will be flowering again on the lane. Truth be told, it's hard to leave. The privilege I feel turning into my sixth decade is overwhelming. Early losses meant that I may . . .
Clinging on in the storm The storm hit hard and I was in the thick of it swerving back and forth in 150k gusts. Finally reaching the warren of back roads nearest home, it dawned on me; I was crazy to be out in this weather! Of the many possible routes, three . . .
I've been watching small birds feeding on the table outside my window. Cautious at first, nervously swooping in and out. They pause and rest, for seconds at a time, and then they are on edge again, perching precariously. In the midst of them I found myself wobbling too . . .
They were born here on the lake last spring. Swans often don't survive that first year, foxes or mink take the young eventually. These two are about 9 months old, hiding amongst the reeds, tall and strong. My own chicks have been here for a few weeks. All . . .