You couldn't be looking out into Blacksod Bay and fail to think of Rescue 116. The helicopter went down here last year, 2017, while on a mission in bad weather conditions. All four crew were lost. You can see Blackrock Island where the incident occurred from everywhere along this stretch. I had never been here . . .
As November takes hold, maybe winter begins? The community on the hill and here on the lane are winding down, burrowing in behind closed doors. Close to the window there are white roses budding and flowering, in their own rhythm. Sure they don't seem to know if it's day or night! And in the workshop there are sounds of tapping and . . .
She edges across the Irish sky from the south west. Traveling on the wind, changing moment to moment. From first thing in the morning we wonder about what we are in for, what mood will our weather bring today. Forming a boundary in our relationships, when we go beyond weather talk . . .
There's a tranquility over the land when the morning is icy. You can hear it before you even leave the hammock. Everything is slower to stir. Except me for once, as these are the days I love! The little lake is like a cauldron of steaming broth at the centre of the valley. The swans seek out the . . .
When the rain rolls in from the western Atlantic we can be enveloped for days. The greyness hangs over the whole island like a wet blanket. We struggle to . . .
So the rain continued to bucket down all through July and alongside the accompanying sea mist, a kind of fog settled on my brain. The days melt into one and soon . . .
The mist has been down for a few days now. It pours in from the sea when summer conditions dis-improve. It gets into your brain, slows down your thinking and creates a cotton wool world . . .