Puppy Stan here and I’m not so sure I should be here but I was missing you all and saw my chance to get my paws onto the computer.
Lucky little me, I’ve been at the beach pretty much every day since I last wrote and I even got to have a seaweed bath. I heard people talking about how good they are for your skin so I thought my coat could do with a bit of oiling up so I took to the most seaweedy rock pool I could find.
Cool, isn’t it?
I hope you’re de-stressing as much as you can ‘cos as I say:
It’s when you’re all relaxed that you get the best out of yourself and everyone around you.
P.S. Please don’t tell Jean I was here ‘cos she mightn’t be too impressed. I hope I can get all the bits of sand and seaweed off the keyboard. Help!!!!!!!
Magnolias seem to come and go in a flurry of petals. They always have me wondering where to look – upwards as they reach for the sky with their big blooms or downwards where they leave a gentle carpet of velvety pink and white.
I hope you like this selection from precious Mount Congreve Gardens which are just a few miles out the road in Tramore.
I don’t think I will ever get over the wibble-wobbles that I got yesterday when the big storm was on. I was a silly, silly, stupid puppy to say that I wanted to go when Jean said: Hey are you coming to see the waves?’
I didn’t recognise any of the beaches that we went to cos the waves were big as houses and, anyway, there were big blobs of white salty stuff blowing into my eyes so I couldn’t see properly.
I was all of a dither when I was asked the same question again this morning. I didn’t want a repeat that awful feeling in my tum-tum just looking at the sea turning itself all upside down but I decided to give it a go mainly cos I’d heard the birds chirping out in the garden.
I could hardly believe my eyes when I saw that the sand had come back and the sea was kinda back to normal but I still didn’t trust it.
Here’s how it was when we went to the shore:
That foamy stuff looked like whipped cream to me ~ and I love whipped cream ~ but I strongly suspected that it would be salty and not sugary. I was right, for once!
The skyscraper waves were more like big dog kennel size and the sky was kinda smiling as well. It looked like paintings that Jean is always looking at by someone whose name I can’t remember.
So, I was able to relax and get stuck into chewing some chunks of seaweed. Very tasty they are just in case you ever want to give them a try.
So all’s well again … and I hope it is for you too, if it was in a wobble.
P.S. The lesson from all this is: Stay well away from the mad seas when there’s a big storm and know that calm will come back even if that looks impossible.
Beaches are like people to me in the sense that they all have uniqueness and their own moodiness.
This always hits me when I go to Woodstown Beach which is in East Co. Waterford and at the mouth of the Estuary where there is a big meeting of rivers and open sea.
Woodstown has soft, floury sand that craves to be run through fingers, tiny and not so tiny.
I love the delicate imprints in the photo above and suspect a bird passed through not long before me.
Woodstown doesn’t have the stones of the beaches on The Copper Coast but has a carpet of shells that crackle as you walk on them while wondering if it can ever be right to break such beauty with heavy soles.
Of course, every beach has her own relationship with the sun. Woodstown, being in the east, is the place to catch the sunrise and there have been some magic moments there as the dawn breaks. However, I’d have to say that one of my favourite shots that I’ve taken in Woodstown over the years is this one, taken on Winter’s day, as it speaks of the tranquillity of the place to me and the gentle, gentle waves.
I’d love to hear about the personality of a beach that has special meaning for you.
I wrote about Mahon Falls up in the Comeragh Mountains here in Co. Waterford a little while back and the River Mahon has been on my mind ever since.
Here is the river gushing down at Mahon Falls;
and in this next photograph you can see the river (on the left of the winding path) making its way down towards the sea.
The River Mahon rises up in the mountains and eventually enters the sea at Bonmahon which is on the Copper Coast. I was drawn to Bonmahon today to capture the river as it enters the sea.
Just before it turns its last corner, it serves as a place where a few boats are usually moored ~ boats that always catch my eye with their colours and reflections:
Down by the point where the river meets the sea, a beer bottle in a crevice in the rocks was glinting merrily. I couldn’t imagine that it had been put there by human hand and wanted to think that there might be a message in it:
And, here’s a glimpse of the how the ocean and the River Mahon greet each other in Bonmahon:
This is where Kilfarrasy Beach ends but it’s also a place that I’ve loved since I was a baby.
It looks different every single time I see it (and that could be twice or three times a day.)
Today it was gentle and soft … no blue skies but an abundance of texture to soak the senses.
Today’s sunset was a blaze of colour. I was out on the Coastal Path in Dunmore East and could hardly tear myself away.
Yesterday’s was a much more subdued affair which I witnessed out on The Copper Coast which is further on down the coast.
What brought special magic to this sunset was that I had brought my own blackness to take over when daylight succumbed.
The softness of his coat and the starry glint in his brown eyes rendered the deep darkness warm, companionable and ours.
There’s a bit of a back story to the waterfall post of yesterday or maybe I should say ‘back-breaking’ story.
It was another of those Mother and Son excursions that always end up being a lot further and more strenuous than I anticipate and I should have learned by now. But, after a day’s rest, I definitely think it was well worth it.
We went to Mahon Falls, which is Co. Waterford’s best known waterfall. It’s up in the Comeragh Mountains and is a very popular spot for walkers. Thing is I’ve never gone to the top of the waterfall before ~ some of the way but never to the top.
Here’s son, Harry, striding off with a great sense of purpose towards the waterfall:
I couldn’t resist the odd little detour to take photos of the mountain sheep so kept getting left behind. (Little did I think, I was going to be up on the high curvy peak a while later when I was concentrating on the sheep!)
Fast forward, or take a look back at the video of the waterfall from yesterday’s post.
I find myself persuaded to climb up and have a look at the waterfall from the top rather than just admiring it as it splashes down. It was tough going, I can tell you, but here’s how it looked from the top. I’m still a little dizzy as I look at this one:
There’s a sense of being on top of the world ~ at least the world of Co. Waterford when you’re way up at the waterfall. Here’s a sense of the vista and it’s hard to believe that a path can become so narrow and the course of a river so defined:
As always with Harry, we came down a different way to how we went up and it involved more climbing before the descent. The views were great as we looked down the valley towards the sea:
Back on terra firma, the setting sun was drenching the side of the mountain with burnished red beams:
No matter where Harry and I are climbing, we always find ourselves thinking of the song, The Climb, that we have both loved since 2009: