"I see myself on the underworld side of that water, the darkness coming in fast, saying all the names I know for a lost land:" From The Lost Land by Eavan . . .
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 . . .
And somehow, yet again, everything came into bloom. Everything at once, so here I am celebrating the cultivated and the pristine. Sometimes the owners of land, property and gardens allow . . .
Today it is the stillest, sunniest spring morning. To the east the hill of gorse is in full flower and the exotic aroma of sweet coconut brushes against my jacket. Birdsong fills . . .
Can I just go totally over the top here for 5 minutes? Can I share with you the exuberant joy of lying in these woodland anenomes at Zwartbles farm in Kilkenny on a spring . . .
We met on Twitter. Many people find it hard to understand how Twitter even functions, but in our beginning, a short few years ago, a small group . . .
Just before they die off for the winter they have their most spectacular show. Faded edges, crinkled old flowers, their faces a little worse for wear. The . . .
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 . . .
When the streets of Vienna are getting too hot to bear, I duck into a side street flower shop. It's the bunches of "weeds" in the window that first catch my eye; . . .
Bumble bee Gorse Violet Blackthorn blossom Ladybird Herb Robert Primrose It's three years now since I started this blog. One . . .