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 . . .
Through the fog
".....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 . . .
Midlife and the great unknown
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 . . .
A hint of frost
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 . . .
Longing for your own hearth…..#Pilgrimage ~January
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 . . .
The cool balm of rain
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 . . .
November rhythms and roses
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 . . .
