Magi

"Cassiopeia was over Cassidy's hanging hill 
I looked and 3 whin bushes rode across the horizon - the 3 wise kings" 

- from a Christmas Childhood by Patrick Kavanagh.

Summer gently waving goodbye

A dab of yellow here, a rustle-y breeze there, Autumn is almost imperceptibly approaching. Some mornings lately when I bring my breakfast into the garden, I have to wipe the dew off the chair. And evening walks, without doubt, needing warmer layers on my arms. Still - there are summer-warm patches of golden moments to be had and glimpses of blue skies overhead. I love Autumn but don't feel quite ready to say goodbye to Summer yet (where did it go?!) - so perhaps just as well I have no say in it :)

Nollaig Shona. Happy Christmas

❤️Peaceful times, merry moments, twinkling lights ❤️

Days decreasing, nights increasing.

November is leaving with gale and gust. A southwest wind blowing the 30th night out and the first day of December in. November, your days have been full of weather. A friend said to me last week, "it doesn't matter what way you face or stand, the rain will find its way into you!" It was coming from all directions.

November is also the month I opened my small online shop a year ago. Since then, unexpected travels for my prints. The little squirrel above flew to Australia, to a Chestnut Farm (I never new there was such a thing!) to sweeten the dreams of a 4 year old daughter. "St. Kevin and The Blackbird" to Canada, a present for a husband who is a fan of the poet Seamus Heaney. And a daughter in Norway who thought "Knitting and Tea" reminded her of her mother - a tea-loving knitter. (Thank you all for your support!)

Where will they go to next year? Like the November winds, blowing where they will.

October. Deireadh Fómhair (harvest end).

Happy last day of October - you have been mellow (the light) and mild (the temperature and breezes) and kind (little rain).

You have given walks along golden decorated pathways.

You have provided the sound accompaniment of golden rustlings and whisperings underfoot.

And painted splashes of ruby and scarlet (otherwise known as rose hips). (have you ever noticed that the colours used to describe Autumn are the same as for jewels and gems? Gold, Amber, Ruby, Bronze, Copper).

Your days are getting late early since the clocks went back an hour last weekend, meaning evening walks must be taken earlier now.

...giving more time to light an evening candle when I get home.

Weaving among gold

Golden Mornings. Golden evenings. But each one arriving and departing with a hint of chill mist and dew. "Ginny-joes" (otherwise known as dandelion clocks) floating everywhere, alighting anywhere (in my hair, on the leaves, before flying away again). Warm colours beginning to tint the leaves, sighing a more rustle-y whisper when the wind blows through. September. With your pools of gold.

Coffee with a friend at favourite cafe, among trees, where they have piles of woollen blankets to keep you warm.

A little change in the air.

A week of sunlit warmth for Summer to slowly begin to wave goodbye.
Golden patches of sun to be found later in the mornings. Walks with an occasional leaf falling quietly and slowly. Morning and evening surprises of Summer-sounding birds. Window still open, reaching for an extra cardigan in the evenings.

Some new prints from my on-line shop:

You make my branches grow.
Summer is shyly waving goodbye here, but is waving hello on the other side of the world. The cuckoo sings its arrival, meadows bloom and trees come into leaf. The ewe bleats after her lamb and the cow is lowing for her calf.

Star-gazing seat.
Light dims earlier and then starry skies. A low-hanging crescent moon, a sliver of gold nearly tipping the earth. Next weekend is a full moon. Lets sit on this comfy seat and watch for it.

St. Kevin and the Blackbird. (a Seamus Heaney poem)
St Kevin was known as a lover of nature. Legend has it that one day Kevin was praying with his arms outstretched in his cell in Glendalough. His cell was so small that his hands reached out the windows. As he was praying, a blackbird came and nestled in his open hand. The blackbird built a nest and laid her eggs. St. Kevin decided he wouldn't move his arms until the egg had hatched and the chick flown away.