Frosty morning on the lane

There's a tranquility over the land when the morning is icy. You can hear it before you even leave the hammock. Everything is slower to stir. Except me for once, as these are the days I love!

The little lake is like a cauldron of steaming broth at the centre of the valley. The swans seek out the first rays of light and move with it. The mist rises and clears to the east, burnt off by the weak winter sun.

A distant tractor starts up with a bit of coughing and spluttering. The Robin is first on the scene and little by little come the songs of the rest. Blackbirds begin their swooping, the Heron flies in low against the land.

But in that first breath of the day, there is a beautiful empty silence. If you were here, and you heard it I think you would wish, like me, that time would linger for a little longer before we all have to go on into the rest of the day.

The absent fisherman......

The ice has gone for now and the lake is deserted and quiet. During December last year I walked around its perimeter pacing out the last days of his illness. There was nothing surer than the beginning of the end, and no one could alter it.

Today a daybreak sunbeam spotlights a forgotten pair of oars.  And there he is, the absent fisherman.

His hands resting on his lap. The blanket which warmed his shivery limbs. Reciting the names of his children and grandchildren, touched by his internal picture of each one as they came to mind.

The living, breathing lakeside is a million miles away from that room.  How much he would love to have seen just one more shimmering winter dawn like this!

Ages older and deeper

Every day it's the first thing I see from any window in the house. If I am having breakfast it catches my eye, twinkling in the morning light. Later I could be on the phone chatting and I am drawn suddenly to notice the lake darkening and soaking up every shard of light into it's depths. At night when I close the curtains on the day, it's moonlit shadows and reflections form an eery backdrop.

The lake has moods. It shudders and ripples or starts to solidify into a sheet of glass. The events that surround it can be both heavenly and bizarre. Baptisms, horses swimming with boys on their backs, herons swooping over and back, parties, picnics, scout camping trips, lovers trysts, forest fires.

On Autumn evenings like this one, the earth tilts and the setting sun magic descends. The lake and I commune with the sky. She is solid and still. All dressed up with absolutely no where to go. Dignified, ages older and deeper. Her dazzling beauty and golden highlights are on full display.

I am giddy and happy. Up on the roof, elbows resting on the edge, playing at being the flaxen haired lady of the lake. Sometimes I imagine my future old lady self, she is pushing the boat out, trailing her fingers in the icy water and soaking it all in for as long as she can.......

And by the way...........there's room on the boat for a few more giddy old lady pals.....




Also posted today on Vision and Verb where I will now be contributing on a regular basis. Check it out, there's a new post from a diverse group of women bloggers every day.

Nothing to fear

Sometimes I go down to the lake shore at around dusk, the gloaming, the closing of the day. In that magical twilight time the light changes. As it becomes less intense it softens and warms the reeds, the land, the fresh water.

In that quiet space, there is nothing to fear.

I used to jump at sudden movements or rustling in the long grass. The smallest crawly thing would make me recoil and yelp. But just by being out there and observing on a daily basis, I have begun to feel safer in the world.

We still startle each other out there. Sometimes a heron will fly in to land near where I am sitting and vere off suddenly spotting me at the last moment. An ocasional fish will spookily rise to the surface and eyeball me. A flying beetle will land on my lap.

But startling is one thing and threatening is another. There is a peaceful living side by side underlying it all, it is mainly I who must be extra careful not to create too much of a disturbance.

In solitude we are never really alone

Of the many cycles in nature and in life, there is time for engagement and a time for solitude. But for me in this cycle of my life, when I can get away from the day job, solitude is pure enchantment. 

On my walks I am usually accompanied by intermittent silence, birds singing, distant cattle noises, a tractor somewhere. I pause and visualise the other worker, also out in the fields, listen to his thoughts. 

A lakeside woodland grotto draws me in, a dark bird rustles in the reeds. 

My neighbour Dots has her sheep and her 4 dogs. I have my camera and my reverie. A few moments of solitude in a giant soup of activity, a great porridge of being, this world that I am just a teeny weeny part of. 

But alone? No, I am learning that we are never really alone.

Snake-like roots that help keep it dark

"...and the grove of trees growing out over their lake......wind down snake-like roots that reach as far as the water and help keep it dark"  Beowolf

A deep green rim of algae has appeared at the edge of the lake. On a grey afternoon this created the most enchanting dark mirror for the lakeside trees. Impossible to focus because of glare and the odd stray branch, I had to wait until these were uploaded to see the full extent of the images.

Darkness, surface, reflection, depth.

Perhaps the truth depends on a walk around a lake

 

Some mysterious things go on in the world. Many that most of us don't expect, support or buy into. While we all have to mull over and face up to our fair share, it is often hard to find solutions to the myriad of problems that absorb us. Foxglove Lane is an oasis from that place ; no politics, no economics no pessimism, no solutions are on offer.

Wallace Stevens said "Perhaps the truth depends on a walk around a lake." Some days that's about the size of it and meeting a small frog along the way can really help.......

Just a few seconds of listening to lakeside grasses, birds and art.....

Sitting by the lake on a summer's day, just listening to the silence.........you hear the grass grow, the breezes singing and the birds telling us their stories. Sometimes it's nice to just let them speak for themselves.......

And I suppose it's the same for painting.........

The marshy green shore that catches my eye from every window........

The lake below us is a strong character in our lives. We see it from every window and it influences the land by creating small marshy areas where streams make their way towards it from all angles. Although small, the weather changes are always apparent first by looking at the lake and then the sky. The meadow leading down to the shore has been left fallow for many years and supports a diverse range of plants, small animals and birds. Moving from a garden into a wilderness and then into a marsh there are subtle changes in the colours and the textures. These photos are from the marshy area next to the lake which shows some of the beauties and the beasties living there.

I think that this is Wild Angelica, Angelica Sylvestris, Gallfheabhrán, which is growing there. According to www.irishwildflowers.ie the amazing website and labour of love, it grows throughout Ireland on riverbanks and in damp meadows, grassland, woods. The embryonic budding flowers as they are about to unfurl are wonderful. It is a very large plant too and we see each other eye to eye.


The view from my new office/studio (of which there will be more later) has brought me even closer to the lake and I'm not sure how I am to do any work with the lake catching the corner of my eye every other minute.......