moon

Sunday 7.45am. Moon walking.

signs of spring

snowdrops and winter jasmine 

spring blackbird

crocus egg cup

It was winter out there this morning. No frost, just biting cold and grey skies. It almost felt like snow weather. We are keeping our eyes peeled for signs of Spring. The snowdrops are up and so are the crocuses. Blackbirds dash from the hedgerow and there are three robins who vie for food at the backdoor. It's too easy to stay indoors, warm and mollycoddled by the fire but it's where I want to be. At least these woodblock prints by Matt Underwood are chanelling Spring even if the weather isn't quite there yet.

inside::outside

 

We are still in winter. I know that February is the beginning of Spring, but in name only I think. There are snowdrops and crocuses out in the garden, and little green spears of tulips and daffodils pushing up from the cold earth but there's also days of frost and other days of fog. Every day though there's a walk, regardless of what the weather's doing. And there's fire. It's one of the best things about winter. The fire is lit first thing in the morning and by the afternoon a second one is humming in the sitting room and then it doesn't matter what's going on outside, for inside we are warm. And we are glad of it.

January reading

I'm just finishing off The North Water by Ian McGuire which has been a heaving read set on a rolling whaling vessel in the Arctic, where the hero (surgeon Patrick Sumner) doesn't come off too well and the villain of the piece, Henry Drax, is of such malevolence and raw power with an instinct to survive so powerful that you can't take your eyes off him nor believe he could ever be vanquished. To compensate for all that unrelenting tension and drama I'm also reading the classic Gift from the Sea by Anne Morrow Lindbergh. This is a gorgeous hardback edition and although I've only read the first 40 pages I know this is a book that will have something to say to me for the rest of my life. Written over 60 years ago it gives gentle advice about how to balance life, family, work, marriage and finding space to be yourself while advocating a paring down, a simplification in order to be at peace.

bleak mid winter

Oh yes. It's winter. It's freezing one day and strangely mild the next. The boys have sore throats and dizzy heads and are home from school. We (well, me) have cabin fever. I'm waiting for spring and resisting the urge to buy daffodils and tulips...

fire and fog

These are the days of fire and fog. The skies burn at sunrise and sunset, with crisp blues in between. Some days there's fog. We climbed Lough Crew enveloped in a grey shroud, frightening each other with ghostly tales of the witch who lives there and pretending to be lost on the lonely hills. But mostly we've stayed at home, curling up in front of the fire enjoying the books and presents that came with Christmas and reminding ourselves that spring isn't so very far away and that the forecasts for snow might be wrong...

here and there

Here: where the fields were lit by golden light and walking brought peace among the bustle of Christmas. Our focus is on quiet traditions, the things that bring us joy each year ~ the carol service, meeting friends, drinking port by the fire while reading the Christmas issue of Country Life, icing the cake and making Plum Duff for Christmas morning breakfast.

There: we brought the boys to the Planetarium in Armagh to find out about the Christmas Star. It was a magical cosmic journey back in time to unravel the mystery of exactly what the Magi followed to that stable and, as the sun set over the cathedrals we left the city to go northwards to the sea.