Angela Jupe

Angela Jupe's Georgian home Bellefield House

In March the garden is full of daffodils and hellebores.

Wild woodland planting around the house

The stable yard stone out buildings have been transformed into rental properties

Even the potting shed is beautiful!

The gardens have some strong architectural features built around reclaimed and salvaged materials

Blue anemones follow me around these days!

And we got a sneak peek through the back door and into Angela's home, Bellefield House

I'd say for sure there isn't a square inch of Angela Jupe's life that isn't some expression of her inner creative spark. While I could write about her amazing garden and Georgian home at Bellefield in County Offaly, it is the woman herself as an artist whose work I feel deserves the appreciation and recognition here.

Now retired, she has illustrated her philosophy through 8 transformative personal projects- and the many other houses and gardens she has renovated and re-designed over her life time. As a landscape designer and architect, she is that rare commodity a female visual artist of the outdoors in Ireland. 

I had stored up in my rusting memory an article about Angela describing how catmint is a great substitute for lavender in an Irish garden. That was probably 20 years ago, so it was wonderful to chat to her about design, collecting art you love and experiencing first hand one of her projects.

While travelling in the Midlands this week on an organised blogger tour I was struck many times by the passion of individuals creating beautiful worlds through collaborating with nature. From our blogger organiser Margaret from Oldfarm, passionate about food, the workers at the Birr Theatre lovers of the arts, to the restorers of Fancroft Mill lovers of engineering and history, pure inspiration.

The Middle of Ireland has a soft tranquility about it. Off the beaten track, there is space and time here. There are many kinds of travellers and tourists. I'm the kind who tries to avoid crowds, queues, fast food and bikini opportunities. I'm looking for meandering paths, gentle unspoiled landscapes and local specialities-with maybe some of that elusive fairy dust thrown in.... 


For me Angela Jupe's influence on the treasures of the #magicalmidlands is one of the best examples I know of going through life and adding a fair sprinkling of fairy dust to everything you touch along the way......






More posts on the Magical Midlands Blogger Tour next week. Also thanks to Mid Ireland Tourism for sponsoring the tour and inviting me to participate. 

In the mountain village #Pilgrimage~May

As I sit here in the wifi bar I am struggling to settle on a blogpost for ye. Time is short and the charge on this device is poor. Having one foot in the global melting pot of the internet and another in the sleepy seaside village world is something I could live with indefinitely though, wifi or not! I've settled on sharing some of the crumbling beauty of this mountain village. 

After a steep hike on a number of trails and mule paths you reach the first layer of mountain villages.  At first you would assume this is a totally deserted place but these crumbling, shuttered homes are occupied, mainly by older people. Just like in Ireland there is very little to keep a Greek young person here. Just surviving up in the mountains is a daily challenge. 

There was an article in the local tourism magazine about a family from Ireland who moved here last year. Their two younger children allowed the local school of 8 pupils to stay open for another year. Locals came out into the street to greet them when they arrived with all their belongings. This is a rare occurrence as most buyers are looking for holiday retreats.

Through the wonderful silence there is palpable uncertainty. The parallels with Ireland, are never far from our thoughts. How easy it is to stand in awe of the beauty of rotting timber and peeled back layers of history on these walls. I remember a farmer saying to me that the tourists come to Ireland to admire the scenery, but the people who live off that land can't eat the lovely views. It's a complicated business being a tourist isn't it? 

Meanwhile my breakfast here under the shelter of a flowering vine is coming to an end. Tiny star shaped blossoms drop onto the keyboard. Tomorrow we travel even further west and delve deeper into the ancient world. 

Seeking light in Rome #Pilgrimage~ April

I skip the Pope's house this time. I am always cautious not to disrespect another's idea of beauty or religion, all I know is that I would never find light there. In the midst of droves of pilgrims making their way to the Basillica of St. Peter's I am as usual walking in the opposite direction, towards the pagan past.

I diverged from Catholicism when my father sent me to discuss my Easter Duty with the parish priest. Although they exerted great pressure I wouldn't come up with any interesting sins and refuted the idea of a 16 year old girl being forced to confess for some arbitrary feast day. I explained to the priest that people were basically good and anyway I had done nothing wrong...... 

Some how through steadfast argument I got away with it and never looked back. Instead I moved over to mystery as the only possible conclusion about life, death and who made the world. I fell in love with mother earth, constellations of stars, and the beauty of it all. I suppose I'm a kind of aesthetic/humanist if a label is ever needed.

That being said, I still harbour an appreciation of certain rituals and I especially love to indulge in candle lighting. These spaces where ordinary people are drawn to kneel are so full of hope in something magical and grander than ourselves. The congregation's collective adoration is soothing and healing. Throw in a bit of singing, some ethereal shafts of sunlight and I find myself connecting with something deep and unfathomable...... 

And as I say my own prayer wishing for strength and peace, my mantra for this pilgrimage is like a constant flickering flame ......seek light, embrace shade and live in glorious colour......



See the Pilgrimage Gallery here and the Rome Gallery here

Architecture, build it and they'll come

In another dream life I live in the big smoke. Which city? Well any of them to be honest, but at the moment it's London. I wander around from theatre to cafe and from river to park, I write, I snap, I breathe.

In any city it takes time to adjust to the proximity of so many people, the hurrying, the intriguing number of choices and the offerrings of consumerism. But when you settle into the endless stimulation your heart rate goes up, the blood rushes a bit faster, the brain kicks into gear. You feel yourself quickening, sharpening and responding to the world in a braver way.

But the biggest charge for me, is the scale and significance of the architecture. I connect with it instantly. Steeples, towers and bridges catch my eye and it's all up there where the trees usually are. I am looking up, I am elevated so I forget my feet. I am so rapt that I forget how far I am walking!

Isn't this what makes a town into a city? The quality of the architecture, the designers, the typographers, the planners? And again it's the conservationists who understand the importance of hearing the sounds and songs of our history through great buildings, streetscapes and gardens. Meticulously guarding heritage and encouraging experimentation from the very small to the royally grand.

And then we the people create the stories of the streets and villages within it. We add the heartbeat.





There's a previous London post here

News Flash!! This photo of the Shard taken that day was a runner up in the Open House, AJ, Gallery of Photography Photo Competition, 2013