Saturday, 11 April 2020
Friday, 10 April 2020
Flowering Currant and bumble bee
Good Friday morning! It's around 7am on the Easter bank holiday of lockdown. It's warm, even this early.
Flowering currant reminds me of childhood, as my parents had an enormous (well, it was enormous to me then!) bush. I used to hid underneath its branches, and breathe in the aroma of the leaves. It was my little hiding place!
Stay well, Stay Positive, Stay Indoors.
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| Sunrise Kitchen |
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| Morning Blossom |
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| Blossom at its best |
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| Baby leaves |
Wednesday, 5 June 2019
Belonging
I live in a beautiful, distinctive and fiercely traditional part of the world. Actually the place I live in doesn't recognise the old traditions, but a town just down the road (Lewes) with which I have been associated since my teens, does. I love where I live, despite developers systematically destroying it and rendering the roads one solid traffic jam. I love the ancient woodland that I could see out of my childhood bedroom window, listening to the owls when I couldn't sleep and making up stories about the old farmhouse I could see, surrounded by trees.
I am still called to visit those woodland paths almost weekly. When I can make a longer visit, I walk up to the old farmhouse and look back towards my childhood home. The farmhouse is now surrounded by metal barriers and building works. I can hear the children in my old school playground from the woods, and remember sitting in stuffy classrooms whilst my spirit wandered the lush cool forest canopy.
I was born in London, where my Irish biological mum lived. My adoptive parents lived down south but both grew up in London, and we visited relatives in town throughout my childhood. I love London, and when I visit, I feel like I'm going back to somewhere I kind of belong.
Last summer I visited my mother's family home in Ireland, and I fully expected to feel a sense of belonging to that land, since my DNA relatives have lived in that part of the world for so long that the very family name is also the name of a close-by town, Toomevara (the seat of the family O'Meara) Despite the beauty of the area, I haven't yet connected to it. I need to walk its pathways and mountains, to feel that connection I think.
I feel like I chose Sussex to be my home. Like so many Irish people, my mother travelled overseas and now those pure genes from the Emerald Isle are over here in my children and grandchildren.
I am still called to visit those woodland paths almost weekly. When I can make a longer visit, I walk up to the old farmhouse and look back towards my childhood home. The farmhouse is now surrounded by metal barriers and building works. I can hear the children in my old school playground from the woods, and remember sitting in stuffy classrooms whilst my spirit wandered the lush cool forest canopy.
I was born in London, where my Irish biological mum lived. My adoptive parents lived down south but both grew up in London, and we visited relatives in town throughout my childhood. I love London, and when I visit, I feel like I'm going back to somewhere I kind of belong.
Last summer I visited my mother's family home in Ireland, and I fully expected to feel a sense of belonging to that land, since my DNA relatives have lived in that part of the world for so long that the very family name is also the name of a close-by town, Toomevara (the seat of the family O'Meara) Despite the beauty of the area, I haven't yet connected to it. I need to walk its pathways and mountains, to feel that connection I think.
I feel like I chose Sussex to be my home. Like so many Irish people, my mother travelled overseas and now those pure genes from the Emerald Isle are over here in my children and grandchildren.
Thursday, 30 May 2019
Moon over the Sea
That pool of iridescent glitter. Could I row out to where the blue sea becomes liquid silver? Or is it like the end of the rainbow or a memory...where I can see it, but I never reach it.
Moonlight reflected on the waves that the sphere controls with it's inexorable invisible pull. Every creature under that light whose body contains water feels the moon passing overhead, governing the tides of the oceans and the sweet dark tides of blood and birth.
I was torn between photographing every shift of the light, and being still and contemplating the beauty of this scene like one might sit in front of a painting in a gallery. There is something so mysterious and otherworldly about soft moonlight, and the night-time ocean. This beach is almost deserted and the only sound was from some revellers around a fire in the distance, and the constant steady heartbeat of the waves rolling in and receding out, like the benign breath of some ancient being.
Moonlight reflected on the waves that the sphere controls with it's inexorable invisible pull. Every creature under that light whose body contains water feels the moon passing overhead, governing the tides of the oceans and the sweet dark tides of blood and birth.
I was torn between photographing every shift of the light, and being still and contemplating the beauty of this scene like one might sit in front of a painting in a gallery. There is something so mysterious and otherworldly about soft moonlight, and the night-time ocean. This beach is almost deserted and the only sound was from some revellers around a fire in the distance, and the constant steady heartbeat of the waves rolling in and receding out, like the benign breath of some ancient being.
Jurassic coast
May 15th -18th. Spring-type weather, nearly full moon, living in a beach hut. Oh. Yes.
Knight Light
May 11th and 12th, a reinactment of the Battle of Lewes, commemorating the 755th anniversary of the Lewes battle in 1264. King Henry III and his son Prince Edward's army clashed with that of the rebel baron Simon de Montfort. Dave played the King, Jesse the prince, and Jeff was Simon de Montfort. It was all very 'Lewes'.
Monday, 6 May 2019
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