on friendship

There might not be an obvious link between fossilised shells and shark teeth, a spoonful of honey and friendship, but there is. We were fortunate enough to spend a few days catching up with old friends. Old friendships are to be treasured. It doesn't matter that ten or more years have passed since you last saw your friend, or that babies have grown into teenagers, or that there are more grey hairs than before-the friendship has stayed the same. We slotted back together, her and me, husbands and children and parents doing the same and it was just so nice to spend evenings chatting and laughing and re-connecting after such a long time. And what of the fossils? Well, they were a gift from our beach-combing friends, one which fired the imaginations of the boys, especially Mide. And the honey arrived by post yesterday, sent as a thank-you, made by the bees of Kent, and what a lovely, useful gift it is too.

rest easy

Today I need something to unblock a feeling. A feeling that bubbles and troubles me. One that has nestled deep inside and seems to have taken root. I always feel better after I have looked at something beautiful, a mix of colours that pleases, a sense of symmetry and order, something restful. My mind focuses on these things and ignores everything else and I manage to come away feeling rested. The work of Kenne Gregoire is beautifully detailed but also a little melancholic, his world is slightly frayed at the edges, like all of ours.

For more on his work go here

loughcrew

A climb up the Mountain of the Witch soon brings us among the burial stones of the past. The landscape of undulating hills and colliding clouds watch over this most ancient of places. Our feet walked where others had walked, our hands touched stones which others had carved, meanings now long forgotten. The wind that blew around us must surely have blown around those who built the cairns. We are the same, separated only by time. What will be the remnants of our culture, for future others to find?

dreaming

There's no harm in dreaming is there? Getting caught up in lovely things and thinking "I wish..." and yes, I am a deeply shallow person and yes, I dream of sparkly golden diamondy things...

All the jewellery made by Rust is produced in the UK and is ethically sourced and it's just the stuff of dreams. I follow Artemis's fantastic blog Junkaholique - you can see her and her husband's creativity fizzing away in all things they do!

weekending

 Question: What is better than an Ulster fry on a damp Sunday?

 Answer: An Ulster fry on a damp Sunday up a mountain.

Well, to be honest, not quite up a mountain. More like at base camp. Then full of sausage, egg and tea we wound our way through mossy woods, coming out onto the mountain road and up, up we climbed among the most perfect of cone-decorated Christmas trees until we were overlooking glorious farmscapes with ancient collapsed volcanoes. Co. Armagh's Slieve Gullion is 'the mountain of the steep slope' although Hugo, who is half way through his Four Peaks Challenge with Scouts, laughed at its height (about 1800 ft).

There are cairns on the top to be discovered but not on this trip, we made for home as the weather turned from damp to drizzle and the little one's legs were running out of steam. But we will be back for more.

early morning peace

Do you have a preferred season? I know in my heart of hearts that, despite enjoying the summer sun and the long evenings, I prefer autumn and don't really mind winter at all. The month of August is usually a good time to still enjoy summery goings-on before the slow but steady turning of the earth leads to shorter days. Soon the garden greenness will start to change and reds and oranges and russets will get their turn. In fact there's already a slight shift and today's rain is hanging like a wet veil between summer and autumn - we can still see both but we know there's movement.

Being away from home always tears at me a little, even when I am enjoying myself. I am a home-bird for sure. But coming back from holidays always gives me a renewed sense of gratitude for our life here. And this time I realised how much I missed the wind- the movement of fresh air from one place to another, the swishing of the sycamores in the garden, the cooling effect of open windows while we sleep. I think that's why I love the sea, there's always a breeze at the coast.

The photos were taken on different mornings, early, before our usual rising time and when there's such peace it's hard to believe there are other people in the world. One while the mists and moon were hanging, suspended, and the other while the rising sun barely gilded the cut field in front of the house.

holidays

 This year we flew through clouds of puffed white

 and landed in a country of mountains and mists

walked in places of pilgrimage and rugged beauty

ate on balancing balconies overlooking rooftops

 and fed on frescoes

 we boated to small islands

with glorious gardens

 and under searing skies

 we wished for windows

that looked out on to this...