La Nature est Partout

When you grow up in a place where nature is literally at the back door, if not invading the house itself, you tend to take it a bit for granted.

The great dead rivers of Europe, which have been redeemed from polluting forces over the past thirty years, are not a patch on what I find in my own back yard... or not far from it.

We Spent last Saturday Wandering...

round County Waterford in a coach.

I'm pressed for time at the moment, but suffice to say that it was a great success. The Alpine Group which set off from the Dublin coast as what seemed to be the crack of dawn was a merry band of enthusiastic gardeners.

We learned a lot and I was reminded to visit Mount Congreve again, a place I had not seen in manys a year...

Blogophobia?

I am not a writer... I am a contented hack who considers that life is too short for "le mot juste". There are so many words... by the time the best one is found, friends have disappeared off the radar, the house is a mess and even the cat is mildly bored.

However, when I discovered that blogophobia is on the increase among those who know better than I, I started to think.

Always a bad move...

What if I'm on the wrong track. What if (and Heaven forfend) "The Blog" is not dead, as reported at the Irish Blog Awards in Spring, but is an annoyance, a nuisance, even, to those who come across it by chance?

My enthusiasm for the form is boundless. Why wander round dreary offices looking for an editor who may (or may not) wake up long enough to take a piece of copy and set it in motion towards printing?

The blog allows for a gentle stroll among apple trees, laden with scented blossom, while thinking absolutely nothing at all... Long may it continue so.

"The Caws of Art"

Anybody who knows Russel Hoban's "The Mouse and His Child" will remember the puns and gags that made it such an enjoyable read.

I continue to expand a slight profile in "Goodreads" and find it a useful way of managing reading lists.

Worth a try?

Springtime in Ireland