O I could gush! Spring has arrived and underfoot things are hotting up. Although these wild couple of acres give fantastic cover to all sorts of small animals, every field outside of these boundaries is now preserved for a local a gun club. The guns are a worry for a wandering . . .
Rosebay Willow Herb, Foxgloves, Blackberry blossom, Pale Flax, Meadowsweet, Thistles, Daisies......We've been talking about re-wilding. It's a word we picked up recently. There are a few of us. Walking, observing, feeling air on our faces. Summer. Winter. Morning. Evening. Today . . .
I regularly witness people come to rural Ireland and begin to unravel some of the stress of their lives. Urban living for all of its convenience can lack a connection with nature and land. I've seen this with Irish people in particular, that their being is soothed by landscape. At a deep . . .
It is summer. Maybe it rains a bit too much, maybe it's been too cold to swim recently. But the flowering in the wild garden goes on regardless. "Weeds" as they are sometimes called, wrap themselves around bushes and bulbs. The whole exuberant over the top lushness of it will be short . . .
Ten times a day something happens to me like this - some strengthening throb of amazement - some good sweet empathic ping and swell. This is the first, the wildest and the wisest thing I know: that the soul exists and is built entirely out of attentiveness.” Mary Oliver Primroses, . . .