The summer light has it's moments. This year summer in Ireland has been a beauty. Sometimes later in the evening there are long shadows of delightful darkness. Darkness and light. As my year's leave moves into the final quarter I need to decide whether to return to my busy day . . .
".....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 . . .
In the middle of the road of my life I awoke in a dark wood, where the true way was wholly lost. Dante Alighieri David Whyte has a great image in his audio set, Midlife and the Great Unknown. He describes the moment when you are at the end of a project or when you have settled your . . .
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 . . .
Hardly a day passes that I don't appreciate living in a safe place, having a roof over my head and desk of my own to work at. Corner of a bedroom, back wall of a sitting room, attic in the middle of unopened boxes, it's never been easy to find that elusive perfect perch. So typically I try to . . .
Needing balm, something to soothe and cool, I turned again to the simple task of looking. Fired up and blasted off like a rocket that morning, by the end of the day I was dragging myself around. Too many stories had caught my eye. There were so many burrows to explore. Strategies and crucial . . .
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 . . .
As a fully paid up and proud member of the working class, I get to enjoy a certain number of leave days every year. This week I have had 5 of them. Next week I will have 5 more...... At this early stage I'm not sure who I will be or what I will do when it's over......but there's nothing . . .
Far from familiar meandering lanes, I am here in the midst of the dramatic lines of Sydney. Strong diagonals on the Bridge, soaring curves on the Opera House, tiny human forms a reminder of our presence. A woman tied to a harness sets out on . . .
I wandered off the route and instead drove towards the Comeraghs. Now I was going to be late. But at least I was living dangerously! On the boreen I caught a glimpse of the mountain through a gate. The bright morning drew me up through the rise of the land . . .