I had a lovely bunch of spring crocuses ready for this week's blog, then on Monday morning we woke up to snow. We were on our way to the National Concert Hall. The Gloaming a group of musical wizards led by Martin Hayes, were about to play to a packed house. It's like Irish traditional music, jazz and trance blended into a new . . .
The Comeragh Mountains lie towards the west of County Waterford. All year long we can track the sun as it sets further north or south along the high ridges, from one solstice extreme to the other. Like our elders, we tell the season and the hour by it. The weather comes to us from these mountains too and so every . . .
I'm going to write more about contemplative photography and unravelling what it means. How it can enrich your life and your creative practice, no matter what that is. How it can help to infuse more soul into your work. How it can help to develop your visual sensibilities and enhance the quality of what you . . .
It's not something we see around here in the dead of winter. Red, the colour of vibrance, heat, attention. So any little pop of red here on the lane is precious and impossible to ignore. I've gone through most of life not wanting to stand out or be too brash. The (so called) worst thing a girl can be, is a bit of a show off. . . .
The sky changes by the minute. As I am writing this, the calm ice covered landscape I was loving this morning is being battered by a westerly gale and driving heavy rain. Unsettling and mind numbingly grey to boot. I could complain, moan, slump. Every part of me wants to go horizontal, hide under the warm duvet, dream about . . .
Winter reveals what's underneath; a rusty gate usually overwhelmed by briars, the cattle shed at the ruined cottage. Tantalising glimpses into what is out of reach during the leafier seasons. Strangely today it was all in shades of blue, or at least that's how I saw things under the cool January sky..... . . .
Our Celitc Tiger motorway from Waterford to Dublin, the M9, bypasses Thomastown, Kilkenny, Carlow and all the narrow villages we used to know so intimately. Unfortunately it's also now against the rules of the road to stop and photograph the landscape. This part of Ireland has it's own story; gentle rolling hills, the flat plains of . . .
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In winter our planet moves around to the best possible angle for evening sun. Through my kitchen window, night after December night, the gloaming envelops everything with it's vibrance. And as 2014 is coming to an end, it's now time to hibernate, look back and look forward. Every year around this . . .
He is bursting with confidence. I am probably standing too close to his territory so there is an air show going on from the top of a pile of rubble to the rose tree in the farm yard. At one point he lands on the post in front of my nose. His face says.....YIKES and he takes off instantly. Robins are tiny but . . .