Best part of winter

There are struggles for territory going on a few feet from this desk.

Two blackbirds are dancing in and out of a boundary. On one side a large rock and a gravel drive way, on the other a couple of flower beds and a group of willow trees. The dancing, flying and hopping continue at the very edge of where the two territories meet, day in and out.

The boys are back in town and are making their presence felt all across this couple of acres.

Winter for all it's darkness is the best time for getting up close with birds. Every morsel and scrap is welcome as they build up their reserves for the mating season. Come Spring there will be even more frantic activity as they feed their families and then in the summer they will be reabsorbed into the leaves and branches of the bushier hedgerows.

For now they skid and flutter into my "all you can eat buffet" and dine out while we wait for Spring.

Strawberries and the object of his desire

He is not a popular visitor for most soft fruit growers.

As always the debt of gratitude I owe to my only photographic models outweighs the loss of any blackcurrants or strawberries that may have taken place during this shoot.

I adore working with him, and surely he knows it.

Sometimes he just lands on this rock to show off his good side. Mostly he is swooping across the wild garden or rustling around deep in the fruit bushes. Today he is demolishing strawberries and courting a young one.

Like any old friend, I study him. The lens gets me closer. My every move has to be frozen and quiet. His alertness is a little off kilter today as the object of his desire makes a brief appearance. She is a very young hen blackbird, a lovely speckled brown in colour.

His one effort at romance is rebuked and she disappears. The Blackbird continues on his well worn flight path across the garden and the dish of the day, strawberries, takes his attention once more.

Hen Blackbird is one of my featured galleries at the moment.

The mother shaped Hen Blackbird

It's been a busy time for myself and the birds around here. There are a number of nesting families very close by and I am watching their progress from my desk.

There's a nest of Blue Tits just above the window, a pair of Great Tits under the granite bird bath, and a number of Blackbirds living in the willows. Out of the corner of my eye I catch them swooping back and forth; without really studying them, I know everything about their movements.

One flight path takes the Blackbirds perilously close to the window pane as they angle in to round the corner of the house. Sadly a Hen Blackbird went head first into the window this morning and landed in the gravel below.

When I placed her little warm body on the paper, her wounds were obvious and there was a tiny droplet of blood coming from her spectacular beak. I studied her in detail, her feathers, structure and colour. The hens are brown, and are the most beautiful mother shaped birds.

These are the facts; we are born, we live and then sooner or later, one day, we meet our end. I'm watching the other Blackbirds now to identify her mate. One sat for ages just above the spot, singing in the rain and grooming ferociously. I'm not sure if they grieve? I'm not sure about anything much when it comes to these mysteries..... 



The Hen Blackbird album is here

Just do it!

Imagine it's a beautiful spring day and you spot a fresh water pool glinting in the sunlight? Imagine wanting to dive right in and feel the water splashing around you, clearing your head and lightening the load? 

Then just do it!! 

Contemplative photography

Everything is in flux. Isn't it the basis of physics? 

The small birds flit and watch. They hardly stop for a moment, always listening and alert. Those rare times when they settle are all the more delicious. Their stillness can catch me holding my breath in the moment.

While I observe them, I am wondering about the kind of photography I am aspiring to? 

It's not easy to explain in words but I am exploring again what it means to be a contemplative photographer.  The world is just there, outside the back door. The pictures come from any given day and then these words come from that. 

One of my favourite quotes "knowing the simple wisdom of what's around you and playing that" from Martin Hayes, the County Clare born fiddler sums it up. Every day I am knowing the simple wisdom a little bit more. 

Contemplative photography slows down the heart rate because it is a kind of meditation. Through the lens, everyday stuff is captured and some kind of alchemy is infused into that image. Some part of a moment that never happens exactly that way again. Today the lens rests on this Robin, singing in the coldest morning; it's colour and spirit, it's moments of intense aliveness.

And then that aliveness feeds mine. And my hope? That sharing these moments with you feeds your aliveness too.


And there are more Irish birds here in the Bird Gallery

Winter blues

Winter reveals what's underneath; a rusty gate usually overwhelmed by briars, the cattle shed at the ruined cottage. Tantalising glimpses into what is out of reach during the leafier seasons.

Strangely today it was all in shades of blue, or at least that's how I saw things under the cool January sky.....

Photography as meditation

He is bursting with confidence.

I am probably standing too close to his territory so there is an air show going on from the top of a pile of rubble to the rose tree in the farm yard. At one point he lands on the post in front of my nose. His face says.....YIKES and he takes off instantly.

Robins are tiny but unstoppable.

Sometimes here in my neighbours farm yard I perch the camera on the white washed wall and wait. She has just emptied a bucket of orange and banana peels on top of the compost heap. This is one of the local birds' favourite lunch spots.

Standing there slows the ticking brain. Puts things in perspective. Opens the heart to priorities. It's a kind of meditation. Another voice takes over, calming, soothing, slowing.

It's coming to the end of the year. What are the important questions now? What are the next steps?

As the Robin comes closer and I stand beneath his soft breath, those old hat questions fade away into the cold morning air.....




See more winter morning images here in the gallery

Sentinel ~ the first midweek image feature

You can BUY this image here

I sometimes stand in the farmyard at the lake waiting for the Robin. Truth is she prefers a dung heap to a bird table so this is where I will always encounter her. Early in the morning, later in the evening it doesn't matter, she will always appear.  Chipping and ducking in that bolshy way, or maybe singing in the crook of a branch.

As long as I wait she comes. It's her space not mine. This she makes clear. 

In spite of each other, we are used to sharing it now....... 




(Welcome to this first mid-week image feature where I am going to highlight a favourite photo from the Archives every week, I hope you enjoy it)

In their stillness

Every year I choose a word to guide me on my way. Last January I chose Pilgrimage and set out to undertake "a long journey especially one undertaken as a quest, or for a votive purpose, to pay homage."

As an agnostic, sitting on the fence as to what it's all about, I am still drawn to the idea of devotion. To what? I'm not sure I can describe it in words.....a grounding and reverence for nature, for people, for beauty? If I would pay homage to anything at all then that's what it might be....

In July I was 60 and it felt like a turning point. If I live until I am 90 then this is the beginning of the third age, the last part of my life. I am the older generation in my family, both parents are gone now. My Mother died at only 33, so I am probably also paying homage to the opportunity to simply be alive at all! The Pilgrimage was a way to celebrate the freedom of still being here on this planet and in one piece....

These wanderings have taken me to Italy, Greece, Austria, the Wild Atlantic Way, with next stop Sweden. In between I have been sitting very still and absorbing it all. A bit cut off socially, working hard in my day job and also developing new projects as part of my photography passion, I have spent a lot of time in the company of birds.

Birds tend to flit and twitch nervously but sometimes they seem to just meditate. I imagine them sitting for portraits, "Just turn your head a little to the left......" I say, and they sometimes listen in a moment of pause...

Since moving my workspace even closer to them, I know their characters, their songs, and these moments of stillness we share in the closing months of this Pilgrimage route.

And then as is their nature, they simply take flight....




See more birds here in the Gallery

I loved this further reading too on How to be alone from Brain Pickings

Set free in a loose garden

We inhaled the scent of herbs on the soft balmy air. Occasional yelps of joy bounced across the lake as youngsters leapt into the water from the dodgy bough that leans out over the deeper water. 

The Irish feel such deep relaxation in our bodies when the temperatures soar. So we are elated by this evening, warm enough to sit outside under the sky, warm enough to put our feet up, one where we can get the grill out. 

I love your "loose garden" she said.  And loose is a good word for it. 

Loose enough to sway in the breeze, loose enough to shed colourful seeds everywhere, to create dingly dells of stems and blossoms. 

If I were a thrush I too would want to be set free, in a loose garden......

More wild places here

Spring in Ireland #Pilgrimage ~ April

Spring comes early here. Delicate and lemony leaves fill the hedgerows. By the time we return, foxgloves will be flowering again on the lane. Truth be told, it's hard to leave.

The privilege I feel turning into my sixth decade is overwhelming. Early losses meant that I may have lived a little tentatively, now my grip on life has become ferocious. Along the way I may have felt unsure, but now my feet step strongly along the path. Like a suffragette for all the women in my life who have missed the chance to grow old, I am beginning to deeply appreciate my own heart beating like a young thing!  

Bluer skies will fill my eyes with light. My soul mate and I will sit under the stars in Greece (as we did in our twenties) and marvel at the chance. We will both savour every new turn in the road.

I will keep you posted from the Peleponnese as long as I can catch a wave or two of internet somewhere along the way. Thank you all so much for your thoughtful comments, notes and support. As always they are much appreciated and so encouraging. 


Meanwhile there are more photographs of Spring in Ireland here 

Home

Clinging on in the storm

The storm hit hard and I was in the thick of it swerving back and forth in 150k gusts. Finally reaching the warren of back roads nearest home, it dawned on me; I was crazy to be out in this weather! 

Of the many possible routes, three turned out to be blocked by fallen trees, and after driving around in circles for over an hour it was all about to get worse. My fourth approach route, ended abruptly with another fallen tree and while bewildered motorists tried to turn around and find a way back another tree fell behind us. We were now stuck between the two giants. I pulled into the ditch disorientated and shaken.

A postal worker stopped and shouted to me. Encouraging me to follow him he pointed to where the others had been swallowed up by a curtain of rain. I felt like falling in a heap but had no choice but to keep going until I could go no more.

Making a frenetic dash through lanes and farms we eventually came to a familiar boreen. Jumping out of his van, he pointed to where I needed to go next and then my luck changed.

With my heart in my mouth I ran the gauntlet of more creaking trees, branches strewn on the road, debris hitting the car from every angle. The house was dark, the power was out, no water, no phone or internet. 

But unlike so many of the power supply workers heading out to repair lines, I was home, dry and intact. Once you have experienced the panic and vulnerability of having your precious home flooded, you never forget it.

Still lacking internet and any connection with the outside world, the next day my youngest left Ireland for Sydney, Australia, and I found myself saying with a teary eye and a wagging finger, just make sure you come HOME! I keened for the rest of the day...... 

After the storm I revelled in my own home sweet home, muttered to anyone who would listen that living on this windswept island has far too many challenges and I keep wondering what the weather will be like in Sydney at this time of the year? 

Expect the unexpected......#Pilgrimage ~ February

I've been watching small birds feeding on the table outside my window. Cautious at first, nervously swooping in and out. They pause and rest, for seconds at a time, and then they are on edge again, perching precariously. In the midst of them I found myself wobbling too and wondering what planet I was on when I decided that Pigrimage, my word for 2014 would be a good idea! 

"Pilgrimage- a journey, undertaken as a quest or for a votive purpose, as to pay homage....." 

My original vision was to wander through the year honouring each day as another step towards transitioning into the third act......making a shrine of the path along the way....I thought I would have some creative control (!) maybe it would challenge me to open up, moving forward with a sense of adventure, pushing the boat out here and there? The very and complete opposite has been going on. The first steps into the year did not go according to plan. 

In a mid-winter of sparse trees, gale force storms and the beating of wings, people have begun to make their presence felt in new ways. Hearts have opened, vulnerabilities have been shared, plans revealed. Transitions are happening to others too. Beautiful souls are setting out on their own paths. Connections are deepening. 

These feelings of setting out in nervous anticipation, of losing creative control, of expecting the unexpected......ha......all are universal, each a microscopic part of some much bigger whole.....

And these connections? These opening hearts? Teetering on the edge trying to make sense of the unfathomable? I don't have any answers and by the way I'm not looking for any. All I know is that the light is returning and other pilgrims, like me are trying to fly.....