February, 28 skies come and gone (where do they go?)

February skies. Soft and blue and misty. Fringed with branches beginning to bud pinkly pale and unfurl leaves greenly. Then, for a few days, cold skies filled with flurries of snow.  Lengthening light in the evenings and soft sunsets at February's end.

There's great drying out

Blathín (Blaw-heen, little flower in Irish) hung the washing out on the line to dry the first day Spring was hinting with a blue sky and a mild breeze. Though the ground was still damp beneath her feet, she could hear a hundred voices of Springtime - birds twittering, branches rustling. Oak catkins swaying. Tiny little buds appearing.

Pancake Tuesday

Pancakes anyone?! Ingredients are cadmium yellow, yellow ochre and burnt umber ;)

Bye bye January sky

January brought 31 skies. Tints of paynes grey, burnt umber and ultramarine blue. Many shades of greys and whites, sending watery tones of drizzle, downpours and sleet. Occasionally a glimpse of brightness to come on the clearing western evening skies. February is on the doorstep. What colours will she bring?

Green hiding

Everything is bare and gloomy now. Asleep. Or Absent. But ever so gently along comes the Spring. You see (but not really see!) how the trees and flowers await the sap that is preparing to bring back life.

From one island to another

Just a little reminder to myself that on a sunny little island in the Atlantic Ocean, the air is fresh with sea breezes, under bare-feet there is warm sand, tastes of outdoor coffees, sounds of palm tree leaves and waves washing the shoreline.

On this little island in the Atlantic Ocean, the air is cheek-reddening cold, under thick socks and boots the ground is hard and wet, noisy percussion of sleet bouncing of roof and window.

Two little islands, thousands of miles apart . . . just a little reminder to myself :)

Bursting out

Aoibheann (ey-veen) wondered how many people had passed her on her walk before she realised her coat had burst open.