Winter is a time of wonderful light. It spreads in long rays across the land or creates deep and vibrant sunsets over the lake. I usually choose a word to guide me through the forthcoming year. I have had fun with this process over the years including words like, threshold, inkling, expand, pilgrimage. Some of my . . .
It's a watery uncertain place, this unfathomable universe. No need to plan or have too many expectations. Time instead to observe and go with the flow. At the close of 2020 there was a moon. It's not that I was following, but everywhere I turned, she was there. Even in the early morning as this moon set . . .
Only two weeks more of this, our second lockdown. First time around, Spring was in the air and there was some novelty to it. This time, winter creeps in and with Christmas on the horizon it's hard to even imagine how we will celebrate. The exciting news about vaccines this week has given us all a lift. I . . .
"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 . . .
Death or the long sleep, is a subject that I am endlessly interested in. There is such beautiful decay around us in everyday winter fading. Maybe we are divided into those who yearn for Spring and those who are slower to leave Winter? Confinement has shrunk my world for now, and yet I'm closer to the small and the . . .
Suddenly it's winter. A time I savour. The inclination is to hibernate, pause, mull over stuff. It's a time for saying no. A time to rest. A time to enjoy early frosty mornings. Although in truth we get very few of them here in the South East of Ireland. The changing seasons are a constant reminder of the cycles of life. While . . .
Early morning light at it's best with sprinklings of frosty dew drops. From my window I won't miss a thing that moves or changes. Small birds hang around on the willows, waiting for the breakfast I will serve them shortly. I've noticed the February sunrise is at the perfect angle. The dimmer switch is being turned up slowly. The sun . . .
There's something about photographing evening skies that never fails to raise my spirits. Tonight, driving home into the western sunset, I had to stop to capture the ever changing canvas, so many times along the way. As the sun dropped towards the horizon the colours intensified and deepened. It was a welcome distraction . . .
Today I make a slow start. The deep winter is here. January brings, at last, the space I've been longing for. 2017 stretches out ahead, silently for now. Illness has contributed to lower energy than usual but when I look into the fields I sense some common ground. There is a quiet stillness amongst the trees and the hedgerows. . . .
".....let that great sweeping wind blow the fog out of her soul..." L.M. Montgomery (Anne of Green Gables) It's biting cold. Our first proper frosty morning, with a nice dollop of fog to boot. Layering up, I tip toe out into the meadow. I get very little time in my week to enjoy these . . .