"This earth is my sister; I love her daily grace, her silent daring and how loved I am, how we admire this strength in each other, all that we have lost, all that we have suffered, all that we know: we are stunned by this beauty and I do not forget; what she is to me, what I am to her." Susan . . .
I had a lovely bunch of spring crocuses ready for this week's blog, then on Monday morning we woke up to snow. We were on our way to the National Concert Hall. The Gloaming a group of musical wizards led by Martin Hayes, were about to play to a packed house. It's like Irish traditional music, jazz and trance blended into a new . . .
I'm just back from a relentlessly snowy Berlin. 10 times the size of Paris with an ever growing and developing creative community. Iconic monuments, grungy clubs and cafes, graffiti on everything, and always reminders of the Cold War. They may have tried to kill off diversity in the 1930's but today Berlin is one of most multi-cultural . . .
When would he arrive with breakfast? The snow had settled as it rarely ever does. The hours were passing and the icy grass was none too appetising. The mare heard the engine before the foal even realised that at last he was on his way. Bale after bale of warm hay, thrown over the hedge. Steam rose from it as they both dived . . .
As the evening draws in, the snow settles and I ponder the long trip I have to make that next day. The forecast suggests it will linger long enough for a dawn ramble before I head off. Just as the sun rises I am out on the snowy lane. One set of tyre tracks tell me that my neighbour has already made it up the hill. This . . .