We feel most alive in the presence of the Beautiful for it meets the needs of our soul. John O Donoghue It wasn't a great summer; grey skies, too much rain, cold seas. But for a couple of days the golden sun lit up our lives and we all came out of the shadows. Photographers call it the "golden hour". It's that time of . . .
I checked the sea temperature today. Not much more than 13/14 degrees centigrade anywhere in Ireland. This year the cold sea water was harder to bear. By the time we arrive in Kerry our friends are already a couple of weeks into the rhythm of twice daily swims. They glow from endorphins, icy water and warm wine. . . .
Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild. With a faery, hand in hand. For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand. "The Stolen Child" is a poem by William Butler Yeats, published in 1889 Listen to the poem set to music by the Waterboys here See more wild places in the gallery . . .
Out west the beauty of the landscape would make you weep, but it's the people and the chat that would warm your heart. It's summer in Kerry and there is no shortage of talk. From morning until night we are discussing the situation in Gaza, the decline of the Labour party and the travails of Johnser. Somewhere in Dingle, girls . . .
The cafe near Coumenoule The lush Montbretia hedgerows of the Dingle Penninsula The Surf School in Inch Mr Orange Shorts in Coumenoule Does all this orange clash horribly with the foxglovish purples on this page? Yes...... but it goes . . .
Every year there is one sure thing, we will make a journey out to the west of Ireland where the Atlantic crashes against the shoreline of Europe, last stop before New York. There will be clouds, there will be mist and there will be a sense of leaping off the edge of the world and into the benign abyss. Out past the road from Dungarvan to Youghal . . .
Special times come and go so fast. The one beautiful evening this summer. That last photo opportunity of the day. The final moments of the slithering sinking sun. After a pet day on Rossbeigh Strand, that elusive sun is tracked until it's very last golden seconds of light. Lads stop playing football on the sand and . . .
On a small strip of land between the sea and the wall of the house, this beautiful horse has been casually grazing. He is a constant presence and from the house can be seen peeping up over the stone wall, his dappled coat blending in perfectly with the misty landscape.If ever an animal or a scene was . . .
There were 5 kinds of weather in that sky and the mist hanging over the mountains made the beach disappear in an endless haze. Sun filtered through from time to time and the surfing classes, picnics and family gatherings continued, in spite of sprinkles of rain, thickening fog or sand blowing..... We could no longer . . .