a tiny moment in the day of the fox

Kevin called me from the kitchen this morning. I'd just filled the basin with water to wash the breakfast dishes but I went to the dining room window where he was standing. He was watching a fox in the field opposite. That field is hilly and the fox was slinking along over and back in a sort of hollow or dip in the grass. It looked small. After a bit it slipped into the hedge blending instantly with the brown thicket and we went back to our chores. Later I walked the dogs up the dusty track that runs up alongside that field. Bumblebees were foraging in the sun and there was the sweet scent of gorse. I thought of the fox, was she a vixen out scouting for food for cubs, or was it a youngster, its own master, delighting as we were in the warmth of a Spring day.

lunch

 

One of the joys about these August days is the simple outdoor eating that happens. Today we lazily made an easy lunch of bread, tomatoes and cheese and boiled some beautifully speckled eggs kindly given by a friend and we ate in the garden, trying hard to ignore the wasps who were determined to join in the party. And this coming week we're somehow back to packed lunches and running for the bus and suddenly it seems as though the summer has slipped through our fingers...

honeysuckle

The honeysuckle threads its way through the hedgerows making the air around it sweet and luscious. This is a favourite part of my morning walk - this hedge is thick, its depth is least the length of my arm, there is a stream under the hedge running alongside the road at this point and in the autumn there are mushrooms growing in the grassy verge. This stretch is about a mile from home and it's part of my daily walk (unless of course I choose to walk to the lake) and it's just beautiful. The landscape is gentle, there's no traffic and the dogs and I amble along with only bird flutterings and the odd whirring of smaller insect wings for company. 

watery sounds

Water on the land, water in the sky, water waiting to fall as rain, water in the puddles, on the leaves.
The lake brimming and sloshing like a too full cup.
Water on the brain.
Listen. Close your eyes. Listen.

in the landscape

Sometimes I can fuss too much. Children needing showers, bedtime needing to be observed, dishes to be done. And sometimes I am wrong and need to go with the flow. And last night the flow lead us to the lake with the boat and dogs. It was raining but only that gentle rain that really can be ignored if you're distracted by other, more interesting, things. The boys were buttoned up in raincoats and life jackets and the boat was duly launched and oars taken in hand. Now, there's only so much room in that little boat so I stayed in the Landrover with the binoculars and H is for Hawk by Helen Macdonald for company. Sometimes I get a book that just hooks me, straight away from the first page and this is one such one. It's nature writing at its very best as it leaves your spirit soaring, your mind full of glinting goshawk savage beauty tethered by the grief in the writing. It was perfect reading while sitting there watching the rain on the windscreen blurring the boys, the lake and the sky. Eventually they rowed back to shore and it was time to dry the dogs and head home, back to showers, bedtime and dishes but all the better for being on the water, in the landscape, in the rain.

the best of things

Oh my. Love, love, LOVE the handpainted ceramics of Georgina Warne. Just look at that swallow backed ewe and the butterfly covered hare. These are truly beautiful pieces of art and Georgina's work is influenced by nature writers like Robert Macfarlane, Roger Deakin and Richard Mabey- writers much admired in this house.  I love pottery and ceramics in all forms, perhaps because they translate so easily into daily life. Having a favourite hand-thrown cup or bowl or plate is something that brings pleasure with every use. And I can't imagine the pleasure that would come from having one of Georgina's wonderful ceramics to gaze at **sigh**

My Pinterest page here has lots more favourite pottery and ceramics if you'd like to take a look and go to Georgina's website for more of her ceramics, drawings and prints.

february light

Oh the light at this time of year! Amazing fiery sunsets, foggy mornings when you'd believe the whole world was tucked in a blanket of softest grey and maybe the light will never get through again. Fizzy bright skies and a tangle of brambles guarding a field touched by the sun. And perhaps the nicest light of all - the glow of candlelight as evening falls.

the sea, the sea

image from pinterest

This weekend we went to the sea. The crashing foaming leaping sea with its endless celestial push and pull. We walked for a couple of miles alongside it as it roared. It pulled on the shingle with a clacking cracking sound, possibly the best sound in the world - stones being ground into sand. The wind was wild, the spray hit our faces and our words were snatched from our mouths and thrown to the churning saltwater. My blood, which is blended with brine, was happy. So happy. We turned for home and then it snowed. We walked in the snow, the sky leaden. The song of the sea could not be ignored and it flung smoothed pebbles up over the railings to our feet just to remind us who is in charge.

rain stops play

image from pinterest

Oh heck! We were supposed to go up the lane, the boys and I, after school to go foraging for holly and ivy for our wreath. At three o'clock when I collected them from school the rain was pit-pattering and now, an hour later it's pouring down and it's dark. There's nothing for it then - light the fires, light the candles, draw the curtains and wait until tomorrow...

peace

This morning just after dropping the boys to the school bus I stopped by the lake. It was so incredibly peaceful -the water was completely flat, the surrounding hills and fields are reflected in that stillness. The air was warming up after a chilly night and there was mist hanging on patches of water. I stood for a few minutes and soaked it into my soul. Are you rushing around today? Have you got a 'to-do-list' that's getting out of control? Doing jobs you really would prefer not to be doing? Here, have some peace.

mid-summering

It's midsummer. There's nothing more important than spending these long day-light filled hours wisely. Picnic bag, children, dogs, towels, wet suits, swimsuits, lake...

cloudy with a chance of rain

This week its all been about clouds and lines on the landscape. Clouds building at the end of the garden, clouds lying over the lake water, clouds pressing on the striped fields. Our small lanes are a whirl of activity as farm machinery tears from one silage cut to another. Meanwhile the clouds wait.

We had a terrific storm a few days ago. Lots of thunder and lightening and pelting rain. The boys were not scared, although Pippin did bark at it all. I was more worried that the rain would damage the elder-flowers growing at the back door (as photographed from our bedroom window). Like the clouds I am waiting. Waiting for them to get a little bigger. Waiting for a nice sunny morning when I can pick them. Waiting to make elder-flower cordial and heavenly scented elder-flower and gooseberry fool.

wildflowers

Do you know the names of some common wild-flowers? We wandered up the lane beside our house to find some.

 It was a typical Irish summer's day. About to rain.

Lots of painterly skies. I do love clouds.

We found poppies, cow parsley, buttercups, vetch, dandelions, herb robert and greater stitchwort. The dogs bark as the thunder rolls in.

We lift out the watercolours. I paint the vetch. I like its tendrils and heart shaped leaves.

William draws, observing so carefully he finds a teeny, tiny spider.

And then paints the herb robert.

beach combing

Although we are lucky enough to live near lakes both small and large, I will admit that the sea continues to call. We fossil hunt under clouded skies, feet on smooth washed pebbles, fingers sandy from picking up shells, always looking for treasure. Hugo finds flint and perfect driftwood and makes a stone age tool. Dinosaur teeth are uncovered (in truth white triangular stones) and memories are made among the seaweed strewn beaches.

in the garden , in the hedgerows

There is no escaping the fact that things are growing, growing, growing. The garden is joyous, bountiful in its growth as indeed are the wild hedgerows. They are positively frothing. Hawthorn and cow parsley are fizzing over and the glorious scent of stock makes early morning walks a treat.