A while ago, I noticed that a brick in the wall hidden behind a light post on my round the block walk has a very inspiring little mural on it. It took a bit of doing to grab a photograph of it as the pole is pretty much obscuring it and I had Puppy Stan pulling impatiently to trot on.
It catches me by surprise every time I pass and that could be three or four times a day!
It is very hard to believe that the teeny weeny cygnets of just a little while ago have become all grown up and are even showing a bit of white.
I could have spent the day just watching them and I get the feeling that they know how much they mean to me.
Here’s how they were looking this morning:
And, remember there was a time when they were like this:
What magic!
This photograph which I took a few days ago brings me to Claude Monet and from him to Dad.
See, it was during Summertime when I was 7 or 8 that Dad first introduced me to The National Art Gallery in Dublin. We used to swap houses with his sister, who lived in Dublin, and that was when we tended to visit places that Mother and Father loved.
It was Dad who was into art galleries and I adored going to them with him. Whenever he came to Dublin in the years that I lived there we would head for The National Gallery, view the art and then dine at leisure and chat contentedly.
He loved that he had passed on his enjoyment of art to me and could more than understand how I savoured going on guided Gallery tours on Sunday afternoons and taking a year long evening course in art history.
Every New Year’s Day for years and years, I gave him an Impressionist calendar which had its special place in his bolt hole.
How can one ever thank a parent enough for sowing the seeds of love for such precious things as creative arts and sport?
I guess one way is to try and pass on the love to future generations in a non-pushy way and hope that it will take root.
Ireland has seen the growth of a wide variety of coffee haunts in recent years.
There was a time when it was almost impossible to get what I call proper coffee but now we are spoilt for choice and the names of the coffee places are great too.
The Happy Grind is my favourite name at present but I am always on the look out for competitors. Are there any interestingly named coffee places in your life?
I am still on my hat-knitting fad and have been very surprised by the way in which my awareness of colour has become very much enhanced by the whole thing.
If I am knitting with lilac yarn, I seem to see lilac colours all around me in nature, not so much in non-natural settings.
My latest creation is multicoloured, as you can see:
While working on it, I kept seeing similar types of combinations out on my travels. This is one example:
And, I can’t resist yet another fairy door:
Yes, call me a mad hatter, if you want!
Undoubtedly my favourite book as a child was one which Mother passed on to us. It had an off-white hardback cover and the heroine was called Roberta. She was the ultimate tomboy, just like me, and would only answer to Bobby.
The fairy door out the Anne Valley, with ‘Bobby’ on it always makes me think of the umpteen times I read that book and longed to be called Bobby. I had notions of calling a baby girl, if I ever had one, Bobby and certainly not Roberta. I wonder how that would have gone down!
The book is still with me but so well stashed away that I can’t quite remember where.
I’d love to meet the Bobby of the door creation. I imagine she has short curly fair hair, freckles and is wearing shorts, sandals and a raggedy T-Shirt in this weather. No doubt, she has a big dog and is part of a gang of young lads who admire her courage, daring and wild achievements.
I have a thing about T-shirts and this guy’s took my fancy down the Prom in Tramore this morning at low tide, under a rather cloudy sky.
Love is like wildflowers; It’s often found in the most unlikely places.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
I just want to apologise for my suspended animation in recent times. I feel like I have been absolutely unresponsive and silent in relation to replying to comments, reading posts and writing posts.
Strange how this blogging thing is all about momentum and one can so easily get into the ‘what’s another day …’ frame of mind.
All is good here and I hope with you too. We are at a bit of a Covid blockage in terms of reopening because of the rise of the Delta variant but Tramore is buzzing as people yearn to be by the sea.
I have been thinking a lot about you all, in spite of my silence, and it is fascinating how different bloggers pop into my mind depending on the circumstances.
Needless to say, Wimbledon, The Euros and Gaelic games are keeping me on my toes. Wimbledon beats them all, as always as tennis is so etched in my heart.
I truly hope you are feeling upbeat and I send lots of splashy hugs from Ireland’s sunny south east.
