An enjoyable afternoon spent at the Botanic Gardens in Dublin. Simon made the mistake of ‘loaning’ me his Canon 24mm f3.5L tilt shift lens. I very much doubt he’ll be getting it back. It’s my first attempt at anything tilty, having become an expert in all things slightly shifty some years ago. It’s a new experience… But then, lots of things are proving to be new experiences these days. Hmmm..
A bee (possibly of the mixed variety) takes flight off some lavender (thanks) as the sun shone brilliantly for once. Proof that at least we had one weekend of sunshine this summer/autumn. Now, as we’re into Q4 expect dark evenings, wind, rain and all kindsa other marvellous goings on. Super.
Pizza, made from scratch on Saturday night, with all the mess that comes along with it. There have been more good weekends lately than bad ones. Similarly, there have been more fantastic ones than good ones. This was such a weekend.
…taking the rough with the smooth. In sharp contrast to the coarse, gritty sand. Sitting on a beach on Inishmore island, enjoying the sunshine.
Fallen from the tree, perhaps knocked off by a careless tourist, but still looking rather healthy while lying in the middle of a cold steel grated floor. Sometimes, when you think nothing good can be made of a bad situation, you have to take a step back (and in this case a crouch down) to get the full picture. And then crop a bit.
Rusted cogs, part of a long ago abandoned piece of machinery on the copper coast in Waterford. Impossible to get started, or so you’d think. With a little work and enough determination, anything can be made to work.
The path back down the hill from Fort Aonghus on Inishmore island. It rained on the way up. Rained the kind of rain that bounces back up off the ground and soaks you twice instead of once. My prediction was that it’d stop within 3 minutes and 30 seconds; I think I was wrong by about 5 seconds. Thankfully, the sun came out and dried everything out within a few minutes. Also thankfully, there was significantly less “I’m not goingRead More
Leaving Inishmore, why would anyone want to do it? Sitting on the grey, coarse sand after cycling (yes, cycling.. I shit you not) to the beach beyond the airport. Could go back and sit on that beach for hours. Unless it was raining. Which it did a lot.
The stone with the sad face saved from a fall into the black unknown by a once great grate. Held there, suspended forever in grateness.
Water ran down the walls leading toward the slipway by the old mine-shafts on the Copper Coast in Waterford. Cold, odd tasting water. Yes, I tasted it. It’s just something I do from time to time. Unless it’s a funny colour.
Wrapped up, patched up. A sail on a small boat resting near the slipway at the dock.
Chewed up and spat out, a bottle sits slowly decomposing on Annestown beach on Waterford’s Copper Coast. It’ll be sitting there for what, 150 years, while it wastes away? Still, at least it made the dog happy for a few minutes. With any bit of luck, it’ll be picked up by some caring, environmentally conscious passer by and it’ll be re-born as oh I dunno, another bottle?
A couple of tourists watched with great interest while I lavished attention on an old fence-post with this piece of rusted barb wire hanging off it. Anything to keep the cows and sheep out of the old mine shafts I suppose. Something I’ve driven past a few times but never realised that there are still open mine shafts, some extending a quarter mile into the ground, right next to where this was taken. Almost made me want to re-visit withRead More
A discarded fish box on Annestown beach in Waterford, looking mysteriously like a badly maintained ice rink. Well.. it looks like that in my head anyway.
The only thing that makes relaxing in ones own back garden anyway less enjoyable is knowing how much work has to be done to it. Or maybe doing the work is the enjoyable part?!? Herein lies the proof that we had at least one day this summer when it didn’t rain. Ahh Irish summers, best subject for complaint ever!
All that stuff behind that thick sturdy wall being held in by a rickety old wooden door. Imagine that.
Walking around in the dense yet perfectly ordered forest at Glendalough in Wicklow. The forest is not unlike something you’d see in a film. Possibly something with hobbitses or the likes.
Sitting on the fence, enjoying the sunshine and sea air at Hook Head in Wexford.
Like flowers, we grow and change. Guess all you can really ask for is to be looked after by someone with caring hands up until the dog digs you up or you become food for whatever beasts inhabit the area around where you’re rooted. Am I talking shit yet?
