Wild honeysuckle is the thing

"If you don't love things in particular, you cannot love the world, because the world doesn't exist except in individual things"

Thomas Moore

The ditches are a jumble of briars, a tangle of weeds, a mess of curling browning leaves. They cascade onto the lane, in the subdued light of early autumn. 

A heady scent draws you into the middle of a phenomenon. The wild honeysuckle is budding, flowering and fruiting all at once. In the darkening days of autumn this climber is still in it's stride, an exotic reminder of life cycles. 

The young ones on the lane have returned to school, a trio of thrushes are practicing their skills at the top of a tree, the now enormous cattle are munching the EU grass.

And wild honeysuckle is the thing today; absorbing, beautiful, tender.

More life cycles of flowers here in the Petals Gallery

And if you have a minute, you can still vote for Foxglove Lane in the Blog Awards here 

Thank you! 

 

Those dark elements : 4. 9. 2015

You are on your knees in a lavender patch, following the music of bees. In the distance a harvester is droning, and the evening sun highlights wings and petals.

You are obsessing about the need for a soft bed and a warm hearth as the autumn sets in; for a safe place to pause, for a warm welcome. And you can't imagine leaving all this, leaving your own home and setting out on foot, to walk for miles to who knows where?

And you can barely grasp how thousands of them are walking through fields full of lavender and don't have even a moment to watch every last flicker of this season's sunsets, or to photograph bees in the evening light.

And you find that "$50 will provide high thermal fleece blankets to help protect a family from the elements." And you can't help imagining those dark elements as the chill of a September breeze, rustles through the leaves.

Please donate to the urgent appeal for humanitarian relief in Syria here at the UN Refugee Agency  

In other news.....Foxglove Lane has been shortlisted for the Blog Awards 2015. Would love it if you could vote here It only takes a minute. Thank you!!

You can't use up creativity the more you use, the more you have

It was Maya Angelou who said" You can't use up creativity. The more you use, the more you have." 

When I began on this path coming up to four years ago, it didn't seem so. Perhaps I would over share my precious resource? Maybe I would bore myself and everyone else with my excitement at the beauty I was finding the ordinariness of my surroundings?

Rest assured this is not what has happened and so it is unlikely ever to happen to you either. Instead of running out of creativity I have found that my energy and focus has increased over time. I sometimes have to look back at my first post to remind myself how far I have come. 

And yet there are a lot of challenges. I am now 60 and I sometimes look ahead and wonder how exactly I am going to find enough time to complete what I am setting out to do? How can I use the time I have most efficiently? How I can earn enough to support the plans I am hatching?

So I am here drawing mind maps and lists. Instead of shrinking my inner life I am growing it. Instead of winding down my effort I am revving up! My mind will blow right out of my head or something one of these days!! 

At the beginning of 2014 I chose the word Pilgrimage. I went on a bit of a wander, both internally and externally. I both travelled out there beyond my comfort zone and yet I have locked myself up in this room and worked. Now I know where I am going next.

I am beginning to hear a new word being spoken in my head and my heart and soul seem to be listening and perking right up.......





For more meanderings along the creative path check out my little book preview here 

If you love warm colours check out the Autumn Gallery Slideshow here

Enveloped in the purest of pure gold

It's been three and a half years now since I finally made the decision to live again the artist's life that I had dreamt of as a teenager. Even though for 20 years I kept the Artist's Way beside the bed, it was only recently that like a bolt of lightening it hit me, it was now or never! The voice in my head that said you are not a true artist has gone away and I refuse ever let that be an issue again.

It's not about recognition or approval. I blog as a way to share and to somehow make evidence for myself that I am growing and creating a body of work. Starting to blog has been key in completing the creative circle; showing the work. 

And that is why each of you has been so much part of my recovery. Sounds like I had an addiction to something? I think it was survivor guilt in my case.....but that's another story......

Over the last months I've been messing about with a little book about the creative path and putting together a month by month notebook of photos and words which have kept me going over the last few years. I got the first copy of it in the post from Blurb and although it is tiny (7"x7") it is juicy and full of things I've learned along the way. I look forward to sharing it with you when I iron out a few further details. It's called "Seek light, embrace shade and live colour"

Added to that bit of excitement the Foxglove Lane Studio Blog is again a finalist in the Irish Blog Awards. Also in the finals is my friend Eadaoin from  City of Blackbirds. She is a gifted photographer and gave me lots of great advice about blogging when I was starting out and didn't even know her! Her blog is a pure joy to follow. 

I continue to work hard. Managing a day job and an artist's path means there is never, ever a dull moment. And maybe that's all anyone could wish for?  The summer sun has seeped into my bones and as September envelops us all in the purest of pure gold.......that fading summer sun.....I thank each of you for your encouragement and support. 

And if you love golden light too check out the Golden gallery here

To whom are we beautiful?

In the beginning there is a thick mist. 

Somewhere the dawn is breaking but on the lane this morning it happens slowly. A tractor engine is idling. He's warming the engine while he empties the dregs of a pot of tea down on top of two slices of brown bread and marmalade. 

The warm September light filters through, dappled spotlights along the way. By evening time the freezer will be crammed with blackberries, plums and an assortment of currants and apples. Sweetness to be added to morning oatmeal and yoghurt on a winter's day. 

For now it's time to harvest all the good memories of summer as we get ready for the big hibernation. And walking back I repeat again these favourite lines....

I wish I understood the beauty 
in leaves falling.
To whom are we beautiful 
as we go? 


~David Ignatow

Lost in leafy light

Do you share a memory of lying under trees, watching the light flicker through the leaves? Did you throw yourself onto the grass and stare into the sky? Did you roll in leaves and kick them down the path on the way home from school, or half close your eyes to see faeries dancing between the branches and the sunlight?

Although Ireland should be covered in trees, outside urban areas the forests tend to be the monotonous evergreen pines planted all over Northern Europe. Sadly there is a lack of autumn glory in this part of the world, here autumn is over and winter has arrived.

But today under this rare group of copper beeches I revisited dreamy schoolgirl moments. Perhaps the world has enough photos of autumn leaves? What the hell, here are even more!

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 questions filled my brain. The simple task of looking would freeze the urgency.

The bracken still had tinges of green. The sky filled the frame with navy blue. Droplets held calm worlds within their lens.

Even now the smell of the earth and the undergrowth is a sweet memory that will get me through the busy days ahead.