Today I write this from the Garden at Butlerstown where I live. I am within the walled garden. The red brick walls once straight and towering, stand today slightly slanting in age; like the slow and gradual curvature of an old woman’s spine, yet the wall is strong enough to create a sense of invulnerability. For this aged wall had protected the countless vegetables, fruits and roses for one hundred and ten years against wrathful sea storm gales.
Today is so pleasant it is hard to imagine a storm taking place within these walls- though I have witnessed many. I sit before a gnarled wooden deck and chair that we leave out in the garden permanently. The laptop is my pen and paper today as the breeze skims over my tapping fingertips. I love the feeling of writing with a pen and paper and would use it for more often if Word processor were not so good at disguising the full extent of my Dyslexia!
It would have been unimaginable to my child self that I would publish my writing to the world as I will do today. I frequently felt crippled at school. The barrier of my dyslexia decayed my confidence greatly in most academic subjects. However, by the age of fourteen or so I finally began reading for my own pleasure… And then the marvel of literature awoke a love inside me and fertilised a flower bud that had seized bloom during school. Since my true exposure to reading many flowers have bloomed. For the very first time, I realised I was invisibly connected with whole worlds, new characters and had access to other people’s inner mind. For me, reading is like exploring labyrinths characterising every walk of life.
“We read to know we’re not alone.”- William Nicholson, Shadowlands
As I was explaining before I am in the Garden and I am most pleasantly lulled by the monotones of bees and flies that freely move between the motions of the Irish summer breeze- Louder then softer, like a rocking chair rhythm. The chattering of the swallows penetrates elegantly through the base tone of the consistent buzz; adding a sense of vibrancy in the music to be found al fresco. I consider for a moment that the Swallow’s song to be passionate in tone. My human ear interprets their trilling to be passionate in the emotions of love or anger. A noticeably flirtatious or argumentative commotion betwixt a Swallow couple as they almost collide with one another in the silky blue sky. And then very suddenly a cloud covers the sun and momentarily all living species become hesitant and quite as the temperature drops. Thankfully, the sun in his true determination rips the lousy clouds to his peripheral and the garden comes to life anew and there is no need for me to move inside.
One delight of my weekend was finding myself at a concert on a local beach at twilight last Friday evening. It seemed a natural location, but an experience I had not had the pleasure of before. The sea did her best to accompany the band of players (Corner Boy- defiantly worth having a listen to!) A gathering of people had communed on the beach to listen to the performers. They played the fiddle, drums, base and the singer sung. The salt air carried the vibes of music from the sandy stage to the people. For a while we stood self-conscious and still until the vibes seeped into our veins and like a chemical reaction, a state of change took place. The pulsation of rhythm designated a mass of limbs, spines and heads to move to the music, free of earlier restraint. I enjoyed dancing in the sand, it molded to our feet and eased under our jumping and pounding to the beat. The sun cast a luminous energy of gold and amber- a filter of warmth, which appeared to spill upon us. We moved our bodies in appreciation of it all, the seaside scenery, clement weather and the sounds of live music- little moments like this make me feel happy to be living here.
Here are some pics from local Agriculture show I went to last week. There were a great array of magnificent beasts and all manors of ‘exhibitions’- my favorite being the egg show.
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