It's 9 AM. Look closely at the top left to see her ( a tiny speck) perching on the highest point on the hill. Thrush It's a daily habit. She rises early and if the morning seems perfect, no wind, no rain, she stands, chest puffed up, opens her throat and sings her song. She has . . .
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 . . .
Our young hare or leveret One thrush stands guard A small nap during breakfast First shot of the thrush sitting on her nest Every morning the young writer and myself have breakfast with the . . .
I wandered off the route and instead drove towards the Comeraghs. Now I was going to be late. But at least I was living dangerously! On the boreen I caught a glimpse of the mountain through a gate. The bright morning drew me up through the rise of the land . . .