This is a guest post I wrote for Vision and verb shortly after the very sad murder of Jill Meagher in Melbourne. This month Tom Meagher, Jill's widower has become an advocate for the Irish White Ribbon Campaign. Tom has been . . .
I could see from the window that the Purple Loosestrife was blooming profusely in the bog field. Every day as I ran out the door to complete my week's work I held the image in my heart and waited for the opportunity. (Am not too bad at delayed gratification after all these . . .
The sun shone on Christmas Day and beamed long rays of golden light into the house. The slow unfolding of the meal, the unwrapping of gifts, the popping of corks seemed more relaxed and cheery this year. At it's heart these 12 days are a . . .
Every day it's the first thing I see from any window in the house. If I am having breakfast it catches my eye, twinkling in the morning light. Later I could be on the phone chatting and I am drawn suddenly to notice the lake darkening and soaking up every shard of light into . . .