Standing still..

acquiescing to the changing, peacening in the seasons' inevitability and wisdom.

Now, the year is passing; season changing. No longer can there be a walk in daylight, at four  a.m. with the birds rejoicing in a new day. No lark rises now. A swallow later swooping and sweeping low, speaking of rain ...

Flowers changing from pale to deeper. Rich gold, stark white, and above all, regal purple. Luxuriant fuchsias alive and literally humming with white tailed bees.

Rose hips starting to glow red; those in the lee of the dwelling ripe and full, And in sheltered places, blackberries showing the promise of purple. 

Last year.. OH My !The gathering there was, and still stocks of the rich luscious jam from them. Time to gather the jars soon and order in sugar!

Standing  still and acquiescing. 

For what God made is good. Very very good.

Old skills...

Just now I walked round to the back of the dwelling, where we face the north Atlantic, wild and winsome. The wind has eased some and air is sweet.

A man, my neighbour, outlined against ocean, sands and sky, cutting hay with a scythe, rhythmic strokes in a long long tradition and skill.

As it has been for centuries here... a memory to be cherished.

His brother alongside, and the two collies racing among the cattle.

Still windy and all moncchrome.. grey and sand and hay the shades. All movement, steady and rippled against the ruffled ocean .

Wilding the wind..

Deluges borne loud on the wings of wild wind. Loud in the long island night. Exiling sleep.

Out here in the wide Atlantic a frenzy of stubborn gusts.

Warning enough early yesterday that a forage could be made to garner vegetables for Sunday ... Peas, broad beans, broccoli. Also chickweed which is wild and they say a great food,. and to move the flowerpot down to earth

The big gatepost nasturtium pot  that remains grounded..  No wide calm view now.

That wind disturbs wild life and tame life... Cats ruffled and restless. Jacob-cat vanishing for nearly 24 hours, in for food, but wired and unsettled. And out again. after nearly coming to "blows" in cat form with the younger one. such a hissing and spitting, and both told off for unseemly behaviour. ... 😏

Waiting waking for day. And no stillness even now. All the day long the wind they say. A constant bruit.

A venture to the gate; white and gold-bright tall flowers whipped to and fro, still sappy enough not to be broken. Marigolds looking tattered with their long petals awry.

The year at its turning. Dark longer early and late. All as it should be and is. .

Handwork thriving. Never a day wasted. And quiet hours needed and blessed today.  Odd balls of good knitting cotton gathered in to become hand towels, dishcloths, face cloths. Easy tasks for tired times.

We live within the weather out here.r we live within the weather here. Today there will be little chance of post as the crossing is too rough
And the cut hay will lie in the field
And the birds keep to shelter.

Quiet, sweet hours.

Serendipity

Yesterday morning, just as I closed the door, in from a five o'clock wander to the shore, the deluge came.. a minute later and I would have been soaked.

A fair quiet hour. Four of the cats, the littlest   one running so fast her feet fairly twinkled. Jacob had been with me most of the night and is still a little wary of the lively new crowd

From the track, no one has been that way for a while and the verges are a wonder of wild flowers. Honeysuckle trailing its evocative fragrance, grasses and sedges and many kinds .
a bag filled with the dry seaweed at the top of the beach. It will be fuel later.

Low tide and the sand bare and warm toned. Utter deep peace.

The last few days the  calves have been  grazing on the north facing meadows along the ocean. and haymaking the old traditional way. A man with a scythe cutting swathes, timeless.  Hay lying, being raked and turned, rain and sun, concentrated nurture for winter weeks.

Days when after  a dark wet morning the sun emerges and the sky clears .. hours to sit out in the warmth, hands busy, cats coming and going, white tailed bees loud..

Today, ominous as there was a threat of deluges and thunder.

So far unfulfilled, but dark and midgy! The island is famous for them.

And now heavy hard rain, " down for the day"...

Summer days

The days fly by in a pageant of summer weather and summer activities.. Varied cloud and sun; a huge orange moon smiling ..... unusual birds new here... flowers, ...

The banks and hedges now are white with bramble blossom, busy with butterflies and loud with bees....a promise of fruit,,,jam.. mmmm! Last year was incredibly abundant and still eating blackberry jam...

Kale, broccoli , not in huge quantities yet but enough to delight. Peas even a bag in the freezer. Reviving an old Christmas custom, of setting first fruits aside to  enrich Christmas. So a packet of peas and broad beans tied up with red yarn.

At this moment there is not a cat in sight... somewhere in the hours before anyone else is up, they are out there. When my old one and the two small girls were out on the lane very early, there was a bold splash of black and white a few fields away... the young lad who raced to us, calling.

( He heard this as he is at the door! Frisks the place for food, then settles with me on the bed..)

On Sunday a young couple at the gate, from Canada.. Another neighbour was around and the ferryman.. so a convivial time. And they bought a pair of hand knitted "sleevies"; money so much needed in my faith family's work in India.

Then a quiet afternoon sitting in dappled sun under rich fuchsia, " deora de", the tears of God. Well,
  quiet? So many bees!  An old, old bush, in the lee of the 150 year old wall...shielding the dwelling from open view ..

Slow delightful days. Busy days... Blessedness in this place.

Early lanes...

On Friday,  a visit from two families over from Dublin. I live at the crossroads so they pass when they come up from the boat..

We are few here but hospitable; someone stopped to greet them too.

 Lovely  greeting them; the island shines for them. A lovely place, s refreshing. it really is.  seeing the island and ocean through their city eyes... we chatted at the gate then I directed them to the Church. There are cards and envelopes for prayer requests and later that day I found one in my mailbag.. May this be a long summer of friendship.

Early yesterday we set off for the Church for cleaning and flowers. Plenty of cut flowers here now; marguerites and tiny spray chrysanths and bright, glowing marigolds. 

 

  and off along the silent lanes soon after five am... Almost no birdsong now the mating and nesting is done.. And yes, followed  and accompanied as always!

Jacob held back; still finds the young ones intimidating, but he caught up. They wanted the shore but followed on the lane...

Exuberant, as I was cleaning and changing the flowers etc .A simple small Church . with a deep peace about it,  Coming to life with prayer.

Part way, the young ones broke away. Over the ditch, under the fence and onto a rise and hill.. Racing and chasing, leaping and darting, while we three, old cat, middle aged cat and very old catperson, watched in awe and delight.

And so,   home... 

And the day opening its heart to the sun and to blue sky... Handwork outside.. 

Daisies..

Many years ago a dear friend, an nun, said. "Whenever I see a daisy I want to worship."

When I see daisies, I remember her.
Small lawn daisies; dog daisies, and these marguerites that were the only flowers among the jungle that was here when i came.

   There is a posy of them on my prayer table, and they make me smile.

We have rain again, and a wind at times, which  has cleared the air of pollen and flies and midges.

And busy days as this is the time for small delights like sitting outside with mountains and ocean, with flowers around and the cats coming and going. Picking ans shelling peas

 Long ago on my first island sojourn, far away, that was one of my small dreams. Sitting at my door, shelling peas. Now it is here again. A solace and a peace.

Island thoughts

There was a day years ago when I  stood, with  a friend from the US with two of her grown granddaughters, in a Kerry layby. gazing over fields at the white farmhouse I was renting then. Nothing but fields.... Miles from any shop.

One of the girls asked, " What do you do if you run out of coffee?"

Truly and sincerely an appalling thought!

And as I replied, if I did it would be entirely my own fault...

A remote house is in many ways an island. The basic difference is that you can drive out rather than by boat. You still need to be organised. Take full responsibility and authority.

As it is, I carry at  least two months of foods in. Pasta, rice, ingredients for cooking, Yes coffee!  Dried milk... Tins   too, Frozen foods.. oh and cat food in bulk of course. Mine are fed half raw chicken, half tinned and    in need would have tinned only.. 

Always two cooking gas bottles and one replaced as soon as the second one goes on. Only once have I erred in that and then as I was unwell and had forgotten the spare was the part full one from the old place. And that was soon remedied.   
And I still have a small camping stove 

It becomes second nature and no burden.

Now the car has gone, and cannot be replaced, my list goes by email to a supermarket with island links, and to my door every two weeks. And as in previous places, I use mail order, Holland and Barrett have excellent foodstuffs and delivery is incredibly swift by An Post, with free delivery over E20, and a Dublin hardware firm have similar services.  Internet shopping!

Internet is the best I have ever had; a small local firm . The dish is on the gable end facing north right on the ocean and never a flicker in the fiercest of gales. ESB are grand and power cuts are rare.

Some folk who have to come out here .. " If anything goes wrong YOU CAN'T GET OFF !"  Whereas in fact we have a fine helipad and an excellent Air Ambulance service.

The only time I have ever been really cut off was in Kerry when a gale knocked my satellite dish sideways; I was using an IP phone.. So I set out to drive to town to find, on the narrow private lane, that a huge tree had fallen across the lane.

Left the car and sat it out; family would call alert if they did not hear for 48 hours. Poor landlord was shaking when he arrived as he saw the car and thought I was in it...

Always arrangements and precautions; and when I came here I invested in a  basic cell phone. 

Like more and more rural places, no post office, but we get our mail,,
   No resident Garda, but at need they would be here. No resident doctor or nurse but in real need they would be here. And in emergency our wonderful Air Ambulance service.    No resident priest but mass  every while.  There is nothing new about any of this. Just the easy practicality of experienced folk .

And the peace here.. a safe and restful place. Of beauty. The ocean to some isolates; to others  it protects. Encircles...

My days are slow and full. But then I am old! Never was one for eating out etc or city lights. And I have lived deep rural and island for literally decades now.  The life here is perfect for my needs. Nothing I miss by living here and everything gained. Last year when my dog was still alive, watching her run free on the lanes was bliss for both of us. 
. 
  

Glorious morning.

Essence of summer... High tide with the sound of the beach rocks crashing friendly on each other,.. The ocean a pale aquamarine  with rosy patches in the predawn flush...

So utterly quiet and a depth of deep serene peace. The birdsong has changed and muted as mating and raising chicks has passed . 

Sun now, and a stillness. The islanders are late risers.

Practicalities today include harvesting peas.. I had no idea they were so filled with vitamins etc until I googled. A superfood...

These will be eaten raw... One of the forbidden delights of a childhood when in post war England we all grew food ... picking peas and eating from the pod in warm sun .. No idea yet how many are ready so we shall see.

So in my second childhood, I shall later sit in the sun , podding and eating fresh peas!

Life is good!

Early to Church

First light saw us, my cats and I, out along the quiet flower strewn lanes between ocean shores to the Church.

A peaceful dawning, innocent of any malice; grey cloud and still air... 

The honour of praying there and caring for it is mine. So today, evading pollen and midges, with my trusty bag of cleaning supplies, water for flowers as there is no supply there, etc, we set off soon after five..

The art is not to feed the cats before we go. While I know they know the lanes and land far more intimately than I ever will, I am happier if I know where they are.

All five followed along, distracted by many small sounds and sights.

The lanes are rich in flowers. Tall daisies, more and more Royal Fern, buttercups, clover, scabious...

And we all six trooped into Church. A fair fine place built with love.

Cleaning, flowers, checking messages..... all the sweet routine of  caring.

When it came time to leave, only three cats and one of those emerged from under the floor where the organ is. Yes, Smudgie! Who needs renaming...

My plan had been to wander home the long way round but  I needed to know the two small black girls were safe so we backtracked

One was waiting half way home , sitting in the lane giving out to me. She followed, but the two lads decided to have a stand off, tails bushed and swishing, so we left them to it.

Number five raced in as I was closing the gate and at the word, "Chicken" the dwelling saw all cats home.

They sleep now, full bellies, safe home. 

Such a little life we lead here! Yet so great and wide also