Like my own Grandmother in mourning for her mother since 1953, each one is wearing black. They peer from a chair in their doorways during the day but in the early morning or late at night they come out of their cosy seclusion. While the men are down in the bars drinking coffee, they take a chair out onto the street . . .
What is the dominant colour in your life? What is the light like? In my neck of the woods in rural Ireland, life is lived in green; 40 shades of it. It soothes in summer, bursts forth in Spring and any little shred of it is welcomed during winter. The skies are dramatic and varied. Weather passes at an alarming rate. We get every kind, . . .