to the sea

To Dun Laoghaire to walk along the pier with icecream, seagulls screaming and boats with masts tinkling, clinking until all you can hear is the sea, the sea, the endless sea. We watch as the tug helps the cruise ship leave the shelter of the harbour and we wonder about the people on the deck waving to the people on the shore. How I would love to sail out from Dublin, out to sea, to places new to me but always, always with the prospect of returning home.

easter

Easter ~ hazel tree branches with glass eggs and paper chickens, cakes and tulips at Burtown House, walking along the River Barrow in the sleepy village of Graiguenamanagh with my sister, magical Huntington Castle, egg hunting and coloured bunting, home to the garden and weeding and planting. 

Spring ~ a time for growth, not always easy because sometimes growth means moving away from what you knew before and going in a different direction where perhaps the way ahead is less clear, and possibly even difficult, but somehow better for you. Have the courage to grow, even when it's hard.

light, dark

Rooftops caught in evening light. Last week we ate out at our favourite local restaurant after a difficult day (autism is a tough task master). And, just for a few minutes, the sun gilds the chimney pots and weather vane of the town and from our vantage point we get to enjoy it.

Sunrise. I am out walking early. This time of the morning brings me peace. Just the dogs and birds for company. I love the contrast between light and shadow. Bright, dark. Good days, not-so-good days. All parts of the same story.

Parenting is a tough gig. The difficult times are there when you wake and when you go to sleep. Likewise the good times, it has to be said, but they are the easy days. It's the hard days that make you wonder at yourself and I wish, wish, WISH I hadn't lost the instruction booklet that tells you how to do it properly.

little things

Gently rolling fields, quiet early mornings out walking with the dogs, the odd startled blackbird and the raucous call of the crow. Walking helps on so many levels. Fitness, yes. It's also a time to think and mull and clear out the head space. And somehow it's an immersive experience that is more than the sum of its parts, if that makes sense. It forges a connection to this place as I'm shown little glimpses of life all around me which I find comforting. 

7pm supper

7pm supper by Kate Borrett

I can't be the only person to loose time when it comes to the summer months...it slips away so easily and suddenly it's 7pm and we haven't eaten. But we're nearly finished school and then time becomes that bit less meaningful as there's no routine to set our clocks to and hey, who cares if supper is late?

Artwork to be found at The Edition shop here

time

Oh dear, time seems to be slipping through my fingers like water. This new season has brought plenty of damp, cold and wet days and some nice ones too but each of them, regardless of what the weather brings, pass in the same flurry of domestic chores, work and general running around. Time is precious but it's hard to put the brakes on when there are three children, each with their own needs, and endless responsibilities. I can't believe it's the tail end of September already but the early darkening nights and the low light levels do not lie. Perhaps it's time to take stock a little and prepare for the colder months and spend our days wisely instead of in a spin.

postcards

How sentimental are you? I have to admit that we possibly find it a teeny bit difficult to throw some of the paraphernalia of life away. I have every letter my husband (then boyfriend) wrote to me and since we met when we were 16 that's quite a lot of letters. We have most of our children's drawings and daubings, from early scribbles to school art. We keep all their homework and copybooks, we keep letters, postcards, invitations, Christmas cards, thank you cards... 

And I couldn't help myself. While rummaging around in the brocante in Fanjeaux I had to have someone else's paraphernalia too. Postcards which, I didn't realise until I got home, were all sent to the same Mademoiselle in Paris...Written in 1902, 1904 and 1905 they are a perfect little mystery. How did they end up in a provincial small town far away from Paris, who sent them, why did the sender post two almost identical cards (top picture) on the same day to the same girl... oh, thinking about it all gives me a lovely shudder up my spine, especially since there were hundreds of postcards in the dusty box in that brocante and I only chose the ones whose pictures I liked without looking at the backs of them...

breathe

September, a month of new beginnings but also of endings. The nights are drawing in and the garden is slowing down, things are folding in on themselves. We too are folding in, we light the fire and read, we can't quite believe the early darkness, we spend less time outdoors. This is soul time, a little like hibernation but not quite. We please ourselves. We eat purple - roast beetroot, plums, blackberries. We watch cawing crows circle the tree tops, the autumn breeze on our faces, the mists in the morning, we slow our breaths and breathe in the earth.

early autumn garden

The garden in the early morning. Autumnal colours and clouded skies. A slight, though welcome, breeze is eddying fallen leaves and flapping the silk scarf drying on the gate. We are preparing for school- slowing down those last few precious days of holidays, running around less and having early nights. The brightness of summer is being replaced by something altogether more subtle, a drift of wood scented air, the stain of blackberries on fingers, the slower rising of the sun and darkening evening skies. I think it's a good time of year to take stock and think about those colder months when we're more house-bound...I'm wondering about a new craft or skill...how about you?

out walking

This week I have been walking the quiet roads, often just as the sun has risen, when all is calm. There have been mornings of sunshine with clear blue skies and other mornings of low lying mist and frost on the grass. The blackthorn is flowering, the cattle are out in the fields and there is peace in this corner of the world. I relish the complete lack of human noise. It has taken me a long time to realise that I prefer to walk alone (well, with dogs) certainly without a squabble of children but also without husband or other walking companions. Is that wrong? No, I don't think so. It means I appreciate my time alone, it means I come back into the breakfast scrum with good humour, it means I get to see the small, everyday scenes of beauty all around which helps me to connect with this amazing earth we live on, it means I plan my day or week without interruption, it means I write long, complicated letters in my head to people who have really pissed me off, it means my heart beats faster, it means my lungs fill with morning air. It means everything.