A mile from home

Nature is not a place to visit. It is home.

 Gary Snyder


There comes a point in every journey when you turn for home. For me it's the last twisty turn of a boreen, onto our meandering lane. This first bend of the lane is also the top of a hill and just before I set off on the last mile, I can take in the sweep of the lake, the valley and the Comeragh Mountains. 

The view from here depends a lot on weather, light and time of day. It changes by the hour. Sometimes I snap this scene through the windscreen, breathe in that short mile towards home, relax a little.

And this is the spot, where my heart always lifts in spite of everything.... 

A note on gift giving 

 My little book "Seek light, embrace shade, live colour" is still for sale in the Blurb Bookshop.

If you would like to give a Foxglove Lane Gift Token I would be very happy to sort you out and fill the orders in 2016......just send me a mail through the contact page. 

Need more help? Visit the how to buy page 

Grounded by light and shade : 24.8.15

These days I am using a fixed lens (no zooming) and resisting any kind of cropping or editing. This means that when capturing an image you have to be scrupulous about the composition. What you snap is what you get, an "in the moment" photo. 

It's good discipline for the eye, and does away with the need for post processing, photoshop and all the rest of it. 
On the other hand I'm also gathering too many photos at once and running out of space on every device, including my cluttered mind!! I came back from the last jaunt with 1,500 shots of Kerry, Dublin, Wicklow and Kilkenny. Overwhelming to sort, maybe one for the long dark evenings of the winter ahead. (Apologies for even mentioning it!) 

Home and hearth soothe the busy brain and bring us back down to earth. Detail, shadow and light will do that every time. The alchemy between eye, lens and light. 

What's all around you that soothes your busy brain? What small details would you capture from your own space? Try it today with your phone, camera, sketch pad or journal and find yourself instantly grounded! 

Browse today's featured gallery "Seek light" here

A way of life : 3.8.15

Clarissa Pinkola Estes posted a letter for her many fans last week.
 Her book Women who run with the wolves took 20 years and 42 rejection letters to find publication and become one of my all time inspirational books. In the letter she said....

"Stories are medicine. Medicine for the world. Heavy medicine carried by those who have the deep spiritual muscle to carry the medicine, in fact, persons are chosen. It is not a profession. It is a calling. It is not a bunch of images, symbols and 'stories.' It is a way of life."

Today the mousy little rabbit, settled into her usual spot and devoured her favourite flowers. Is being here photographing the ordinary and the everyday a calling? Is the creative process exercising a deep spiritual muscle? Have I been chosen to carry a heavy medicine for the world?

 There were a dozen other lives I almost lived. I'm not sure how I ended up being here instead of ambling down the city streets where I grew up. But here I am, and yes while I can't fully grasp "the calling" I know this is definitely a way of life, that I am home. 

Do you ever feel that you are living out your calling? Is your own practice more than "a bunch of images, symbols, and stories"? Is it your way of life?

This week's gallery is a collection called Inklings

Something precious to belong to; home.

Today it is the stillest, sunniest spring morning. 

To the east the hill of gorse is in full flower and the exotic aroma of sweet coconut brushes against my jacket. Birdsong fills the fields as nest making and nest guarding goes on. In the distant sky the Coastguard helicopter is rumbling it's way out over the Copper Coast. 

The golden light smothers everything in streams.  Later the wind will probably pick up from the southern Atlantic, a front might approach from the Comeragh Mountains to the west or from the plains to the north.

For now Waterford on a still spring day, in the golden light of this spring flowering, is something precious to belong to. 

And it's home.

Check out a new gallery called Up close in the Hedgrows here

This felled giant

Did you ever wrap your arms around a felled giant and get up close and personal with it's roots and heart? The wooden body feels so strong, there are new buds on the tips of it's branches but the torn roots are dry. This Beech tree will never come into leaf again.

So many fallen trees since the huge storm last month are lying pitifully broken exactly where they landed. Having blogged my nightmarish journey home during the big wind, I'm still checking out trees I know and finding they are gone. This beauty is lying on the front lawn of Mount Congreve one of many lost there over the winter.

I photograph it's awkward sprawl and then the daffodils blooming around the gaping hole where it once stood magnificent. 

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? 

Longing for your own hearth.....#Pilgrimage ~January

Hardly a day passes that I don't appreciate living in a safe place, having a roof over my head and desk of my own to work at. Corner of a bedroom, back wall of a sitting room, attic in the middle of unopened boxes, it's never been easy to find that elusive perfect perch. So typically I try to fit in flexibly and quietly wherever I can.

As part of "setting out" on this pilgrimage, I am reconstructing this stage set home of ours yet again and claiming more of my own space. No sooner said than the thought of the blank page and the expectation of "no more excuses" overwhelms. Then while unpacking I come across a well worn copy of The Heart Aroused by David Whyte. 

"Following our path is in effect a kind of going off the path, through open country. There is a certain early stage when we are left to camp out in the wilderness, alone......out there in the silence we must build a hearth, gather the twigs, and strike the flint for the fire ourselves. This can be a frightening time."

So frightening time or not, I am getting on with striking the flint and fixing a vital point of reference for the journey. Do you long for the luxury of your own hearth?

It's the same sun, the same sky, and it's even the same me and you.

Everything about London and city life is a world away from my usual slow lane existence. I parted company with my camera (other bloggers/photographers will maybe understand) to spend proper quality time with other humans, and anyway I didn't want to carry it around. Travelling light, I thought.

London is wonderful. Full of cafes, art, trees, bridges, a great big river in the middle of it and skyscapes of magical towers and turrets. Wasn't long before the phone camera was produced and put into full use!!

Before I left home I had taken some Autumn sky shots. On the Thames I remembered our western view over towards the Commeragh Mountains. Same western sky, same sun, same me. Wherever we go I thought, and sometimes we travel a long way, this world is our home.

I thought about all of you who share your comments and thoughts. Those insights about the looming winter, changing seasons, and fading light, and also about your strategies to stay positive and close to the earth. It has been like a show of community strength in challenging times!

And speaking of travelling a long way, I am thinking of all of you Irish people around the world today, same sky, same sun, same you. We all belong here, wherever we are.