ICE FLOWERS AND LEAVES

We woke this morning to an icy cold and beautiful sunny morning, yes it had frozen even here in usually mild West Cork. So I could not wait to get out and feast my eyes on all this frozen beauty, and I was not surprised to find that everything in the garden was gleaming in a sparkling white coat. Yes, old man winter had walked the land that was plain to see. The temperature was 4 degrees Celsius. But the sun had already come out and I could feel its warm rays on my skin, I had gone out without a coat or boots and soon my feet were freezing. The bright, beauty of the morning filled me with energy, it is such a change from all the rain.

This Rudbekia a plant which I sowed early last spring has finally flowered, and what a day to choose for it. Beautiful.
The leaves of the Calla lily (Zantedeschia aethopica) never fail to look good any day but especially this morning they looked wonderful!
I’ve been thinking what to do with all the many young Foxgloves plants coming up in the garden, now I am happy that I left them as the frost has decorated them so brilliantly.
This is the sort of photo that stops me starting to paint again, why would I paint if art is show me in nature just like that. How could I ever make it more beautiful.
And so another evening has arrived, and I made use of my extra energy to clean up the front garden as this was very overdue. The leaves of two smallish trees had nearly covered the cement tiles, and the Buddleia needed trimming. This was a rather slow job as the branches had overgrown and they all had to be cut and cut again in order to be brought through the house to the back garden for shredding. But recently I have found joy in doing jobs slowly, or rather in doing slow jobs, they are like a meditation and I know that I benefit from this. Also I have noticed this tendency in my reading habits, these days a really tick book does not put me off anymore, on the contrary I seek them out and relax into them for days, savouring the story. Same with cooking, I now very much prefer to cook totally from scratch, enjoying the extensive cutting up of vegetables, or shelling of peas.
I am grateful to have the time for all of this now that I am retired.

My dear readers and friends I hope that wherever you live, keep warm or cool as the case may be, and enjoy the moment.

A LITTLE FROSTY, BUT SUNSHINE

Some of these mornings lately are frosty, and the garden looks a little white, but the nice thing about it is that we get sunshine along with it, so very much needed here in West Cork.  Clear the air too.  The garden is waiting for attention, but my mind is on other things right now, and it’s all good.  All will be in order for a fabulous growing season.

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FROSTY MORNING

This morning a glorious sun rose over the hills to the East, a bright blue sky welcomed me from my dream-filled sleep. The grass fields across the valley looked like well ironed patches, smooth and very green. And in the garden there I found jewels. Jewels because it had frozen during the night, but already the thaw had set in, some of the vegetables and little plants were still beautifully laced with ice.  Texture and colour, a feast for the eye.
A precious new morning, a beautiful new day.
I feel energized from this sunshine,
something to be very grateful for.

OLD MAN WINTER WAS HERE

We awoke this morning to a sunny but very frosty winter’s day.  Steam was rising from the horse in the field behind the garden, poor animal – I hope it was all right during the night. Frost had covered everything beautifully in the garden, making lovely patterns on water iced over, and decorating the vegetation in pure white and clear crystals, beautiful! It’s the type of morning one loves to get up and go out and wonder at it all.
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WINTER’S ARRIVAL IN IRELAND

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“That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruin’d choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou seest the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west,
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death’s second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see’st the glowing of such fire
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed whereon it must expire
Consumed with that which it was nourish’d by.
This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.”
William Shakespeare, Shakespeare’s Sonnets