Spring is on her way . . . My room has become a vintage apothecary of life. *new beginnings*
Magic lives here.
The gift of the light,I thankfully hold.
I shall have thirty years this Winter… feels like wading into the waters around Inch Island … scary, at times tumultuous/at times still,redefining, ethereal yet always beautiful.
Oyster catchers will cry out, waves will crash and I hope to be strong enough to sing sea shanties in the early grey morn’.
I played in this beautiful wild meadow as a child and now I call it home.
'She watched as the sky danced from pink into gold. Three dirty white swans beat their wings above her; flying like an ancient constellation in the air. The world all around of her was holding its breath and getting ready to wait.'
'In Ireland there is more light than there is in any other place in all of the world … That is what we do with all of our spare light.’
Lanterns filled with light
The time is almost upon us when we begin to *wait*
The world spins and turns and weaves and dances and sings and tells her stories. And yet, there is such stillness; buried deep.