Milkmoon

Come Sit By My Chair Awhile.

2012-01-25T23:02:00.000Z

Look, there, through the westward window the mountains are adrift in a haze of white rain, like ghostly ships, sails at full mast, sailing on a sea of golden reeds that bend and blow and shiver in their bed. Seven swans glide past, a moment and they are gone, the sound of their beating wings lingering as they melt and drift into the white sky.

On the eastern side of the house, the sea is in a temper, heaving itself up at the shingle, and I open the windows all along the front of the house, the better to hear it grumbling and groan in it's ill~humour, and I sit, hands wrapped around a mug of hot tea, scarf wrapped around my head, savouring the chill wind that fills the house like a purge.

The Smallest, a-bed, has a visitor.

You see, we have had a winter dose of unwell~ness here, of coughs and colds and flu that laid to waste even the hardiest of us, though thankfully not me, and yes, now that everyone is well again, or at least back out in the world, I am savouring the quiet and aloneness and the not having to minister to the needs of many, at last.

Day 5: Longing to get out into the air, but like a little flag he droops every now and then.

Is it the time of year? My mind is a slippery thing, unless I pin them down like moths, thoughts escape me, fly away never to be seen again. I rack my brains for that shiny nugget that flittered through earlier, a promise, like a door to a wondrous place but alas I cannot find it. Yet again.

I am surrounded by teetering piles of notebooks filled with scatterings and lines and words, reminders, fragments, whisperings from other days, of weather and wonderings and clouds, of names and songs, conversations, visions, people. All day I drive through the grey and the green, rushing here and there, feeding, tending, nagging, cleaning, sorting, driving, shopping, organising, conversing, picking up, dropping off, putting away, moving, ranting, cuddling, listening, loving, loving, loving, and all the while a bright stream of ideas and desires and creative longings that I simply cannot stifle
j u s t k e e p c o m i n g.
And no longer contained they stream out of my head like bright ribbons that flutter and gasp in the air, unable to go anywhere, but desperate to be out there, in the wide world.
I sometimes wonder do people notice? A faint distraction, a blur in the air around me, there out of the corner of their eye?
There one goes right there! In my head, quick as lightening, I did a little drawing of a Distracted Girl With Exploding Head, complete with ribbons.....sigh. Only that I wrote that down, she would have been gone by morning.

But I am shivering now, I think it's time to close the windows and get the fire going. Will we make some more tea? (yes, The Art of Procrastination)

The wayward sun behind that door is beckoning. Perhaps I will draw her after all....

Something Lovely.

2012-01-08T17:51:00.000Z

It's many moons since I posted a Something Lovely post, and my desire to share this with everyone I know has prompted me to post it here. Something lovely, something different, something new, for Milkmoon. The beginnings of a shake up? I'm excited!

This here is my video of 2011. It is from one of my albums of the year called Diamond Mine by King Creosote and Jon Hopkins. Don't be put off by the still you see here, it is beyond gorgeous.
I hope you enjoy it.

Where To Now? The Post I Could Not Post....

2012-01-03T10:51:00.001Z

Last night I lay awake in the dark as a storm raged outside, shaking the walls of our little house, and as so often the dark, like an insidious creature, creeps in beside you, and it is hard not to imagine great foaming walls of water towering up out of their sea bed, straining at the leash just beyond the railway tracks. And as sleep tussles with the dark, and the contents of my days tumble about my head, half-thoughts, glimpses, resolutions, notions, conversations, something settles in my heart.

In the morning I sit in the cold kitchen, watch the blue night turn into day, and as the room finally begins to warm up, and a rainbow falls out of the gloomy grey onto the shadowy, rain-clad hills, I know in the end I will post this, simply because I am annoyed at myself, (and reading Martin's similar themed post over on Square Sunshine gave me the final prod).

I would like to acknowledge something that has been nagging me for some time: it has been a rather slow decline here, a ponderous denial for many months now. After four years, and many, many readers, more than I could ever have hoped, this Milkmoonish place of mine has been neglected of late, (not just Milkmoon, but A Year At My Back Door too, and Scenes From The Moth House, two projects that are dear to my heart) and I now find myself at the beginning of a new year, and considerably unsure of the path ahead of me.

Do I want to continue? Have I paused and realised I am a bit lost, a bit unfocused, and a lot uninspired?
I have no idea. And surely that in itself is not a good sign? Ever since this tiny seed of uncertainty burrowed into my blithe and untroubled mind, it has grown and taken hold, and I cannot shake it. Yet I am reluctant to stop. So reluctant to close the door on Milkmoon and walk away. I really do not think I can.

And yet.

And yet I find my mind has wandered away, to some other place where images spin by but have no substance, where words flit about somewhere in the ether above me, too diaphanous to grasp, and I do not have the impetus to try. And so I post lazy, lackadaisical posts like the previous one. And I am ashamed of it. I can do better than that! I can. So why am I not?

It is laziness that prevents me from taking proper pictures with a proper camera, which is what I started out doing, which is why I started blogging in the first place. The dratted iPhone just makes it so easy, because it is so clever, and so pretty, but the pictures are, ultimately vastly inferior, as anyone viewing them on anything other than a smartphone can see....sigh.

So, I resolve to limit my iphone shots to this other place here, and to my Flickr, for those who cannot access Instagram, and we will see if I can manage to get back to basics here.

The past year has seen quite a number of changes, and the coming one sees even more to come, and I have no idea what they will bring. All I can say is time will tell.

I feel it could go either way~a quiet slipping away into silence, or something of a shake-up of things. I honestly cannot say right now.

So for today, I will update my blogs as heartily as I can, and then, I will leave the door ajar, and the light on, and hopefully Milkmoon will take matters into it's own hands and find inspiration for me, and time, to separate the magic from the mundane, and continue posting.

I do hope so.

After The Long Hiatus, Unplanned, A Recap.

2012-01-02T23:02:00.001Z

First things first, dear readers, a Happy New Year to you one and all. I do hope the holiday brought good cheer and festive shenanigans, with lots of jovial folk around you!

Ours was lovely, with lots of walks and baking and visiting and do-nothing days. We've sadly had no snow so far this year, although last years white Christmas was a spectacular anomaly, and we do hope we get some yet.

And so, a quick recap of the season's festivities in the Milkmoon household:

Walking the Solstice Spiral in school.

Christmas Eve in our kitchen.

St. Stephen's Day walk.

Out Walking.

My MIL's Christmas tree.

Visiting Family, Friends, Neighbours.

Every good wish to you all, dear friends, for bountiful blessings,

both big and small, for the coming year.

May you be surrounded by lots and lots of love and happiness.

Follow Me....

2011-11-19T22:50:00.001Z

...come into the woods,

for I'm afraid we are not ready to leave yet, no,

but give me your hand and we will take you with us and you will see why.

Into the cool green we go, the seeping damp, the air surprisingly warm on our skin. We follow the path, a slow meander, voices murmuring through the trees, quiet footsteps ahead, the rustle of leaves, the distant chirp and chatter of birds.

Hurry now, and hush, for there is One who must not hear us. Quick! Light feet and haste!

Here we are now, look, everyone is here, I don't think we are last. There is a little work to be done, for we are here for a very special reason.

There is a birthday, here in the woods. A Very Significant 8th Birthday, and we have been invited along to celebrate.

There is a flurry of activity as little wood nymphs and rabbits dash and scamper and scuttle, pulling streamers out of the trees, balloons out of burrows.

A mad dash to prepare, arrange and assemble, for the Birthday Girl has not arrived yet. And she does not even know we are here!

So, as she is 'out for a walk' in the woods with her Nan, the bustle of activity continues, until all is ready, all is set.

And so we wait.

Until it is time to gather together the scattered dearlings, the wayward rabbits and knights, the Tweedledums and Tweedledees, and hustle them all out of the clearing, for a little bird has told us She is on her way!

And for a moment this little dell rings with excited shrieks and squeals and hoarse whispered shouts,

'She is coming!! Quick! Hide! Everyone hide!'

And then a giggling hush descends, and everyone takes their place, the excitement quivering in the air, a tremor in the leaves.

'Here she is!'

Oh the little face as she is surrounded by her family and friends as they spill out of the trees around her, the round eyes and astonished countenance, and we all cheer and clap and our voices echo up into the treetops above:

Happy Birthday to you ♪♫•*¨*•.¸¸♥ ¸¸.•*¨*•♫♪ ♪♫•*¨*•.¸¸♥ ¸¸.•*¨*•♫♪ Happy Birthday to you ♪♫•*¨*•.¸¸♥ ¸¸.•*¨*•♫♪Happy Birthday Dear Darling♪♫•*¨*•.¸¸♥ ¸¸.•*¨*•♫♪ ♪♫•*¨*•♫ Happy Birthday to you!♪♫•*¨*•.¸¸♥ ¸¸.•*¨*•♫♪♪♫•*¨*•.¸¸♥ ¸¸.•*¨*•♫♪ ♪♫•*¨*•♫.........

And then the games begin in ernest, the cakes magically disappear, and the Birthday Girl, aka The White Queen, holds court and regales us with fantastical Tales of Great Adventures.

And the day draws in, the sunlight finds us and persuades us to stay, the forest echoes with the glad little voices. A joyful sound that will linger long after we are gone.

And happiness gathers.

Oh! Are you leaving? Must you?

No, we are staying, for just a while longer.

The weather is mild and surprisingly dry for November, we have sandwiches and tea, and birthday cake to come.

We love it here. We are not ready to go.

Just yet.

A Wander Off The Beaten Track.

2011-11-11T06:00:00.000Z

Oh hello!

Did I fall asleep? Did I fall into some other place where the sun shines?

I may have, I am not sure.

It was, I think, a place where we spend our days a~wandering in the forest, kicking up leaves, traipsing through mud, the heady scent of loamy soil, of humus and decay filling the air around us,

seeping into our bones like some restorative tonic.

I must have closed my eyes for a moment.

Sunlight glows behind my eyelids, a dappled green light, a quietening blush.

And there in the stillness, there, do you hear?

The quivering trees, stirring the air as they nod and murmur,

whispering in your ear.

The muffled footfalls of small people running through the woods, voices calling to one another.

The rush of water over stone.

Which one is life's most satisfying sound?

Yes, I did, I crept away from it all, I stopped in the woods awhile and found this place that is quiet and still and does not require me to do anything, or be anything other than quiet and still. Time away from blogging and writing and being right out there in the online world. And I admit I am reluctant to leave this place, to return to all that I have created for myself in the world that exists through this magic looking glass that is my computer.

I find I want to read books again, to walk in the woods and swim in the sea, to meet with friends and chat and ask them how they are. To watch a film and actually sit on a couch for a change! Oh! To sit by the fire and sew again, to read and hang out. Does anyone else feel like this?

It's time to pause, no, to stop.

I am not going away, not yet, no.
But there is a lot I need to think about and plan and do.

Other things.

It won't be long.

I'm just going to close my eyes for a minute, the sun is lovely......

Through My Window, On An Afternoon Of Unexpected Idleness.

2011-10-14T23:14:00.000+01:00

"The mountains simply exist, as I do. The mountains exist simply, as I do not."

~ Peter Matthiessen.

From all directions, the distant mountains bathe their crowns in milky pools,
and the sky draws down a slow veil,
the earlier rain,
like the lightest canopy
shook out in slow motion, reluctant to return down to us,
a curious drift that settles unhurriedly.

It takes the whole day.

Of Bungled Plans, And Some Birthdays.

2011-10-09T23:30:00.000+01:00

Three days past now, Milkmoon turned four. And I missed it! Oh my.....

I did remember last week, and there were plans for a make-over and a giveaway, which I hasten to add will still go ahead, they will. But then my technical advisor was whisked away to Tokyo, at rather short notice, and I quietly folded my plans away into a shoebox and placed it on a sunlit shelf in my studio, to wait.

In my mother's kitchen,
she pauses to light the candles.

But just before he left, we had a birthday. Eight years ago our bonny babe no.3 was born here in our sitting room, all 11lbs (5kilos) of him, and such a ray of sunshine he has turned out to be. An all-singing, all-dancing, most agreeable cabaret of a lad, if ever there was one!

And so our week has been, as usual, a hectic one. A blustery, wind-swept, whiplash sort of a week that careened between autumnal gloomy rain-drenching days, and hot sirocco-like days, that found us mostly over-dressed, peeling off layers as we went, kicking off our shoes and longing for cool water on our toes.

There is a strange thing that happens when one tenacious season will not let go, isn't there? An odd sort of waiting. We stand in the wings, costumes in hand, just waiting for our cue to don them, but each time we do, we must remove them in haste as we are overcome, yet again....*sigh*
Let autumn begin proper, please, I say, as I eye my favourite tweedy skirt, woolen scarves and ankle length coat, and hats! Oh yes, hats, please!

But for now we will bide our time, scuffing our toes in the last of the warmth before the sun begins to thin, and we have to scramble and savour any heat we can find.
Although I was better, I am hobbling again, and so trying to slow things down a little, (yes, I did say 'slow things down', though when I say those words, I do hear manic laughter echoing somewhere in the background...) and I have plans to actually get into my studio this week and get stuck into an exciting project I have in mind.

Ah, yes, the studio. Did I mention it before? I think possibly not. I may do a little feature to show you around, and you can peek into some shoeboxes and tins and see what we can find. I am still unpacking hence the shoeboxes etc but do stop by later this week to see where we are, and pop in for a cup of tea when I am settled in.

But in the meantime.

I'll be right here, fixing myself up and finding new homes for everything, unpacking and unwrapping and setting things to rights.

And waiting for the technical advisor to make his way home again.....

Where Ghosts Wander In The Trees.

2011-10-01T23:05:00.000+01:00

For days now the rain clung to the mountains, a distant threat, a pale swathe that seemed to embrace them, draw them away from us. And each day we watched, waiting, but still they held.

And so we took ourselves off, running out into the afternoon sun, the day as muggy as high summer. We took ourselves up a winding, tree-lined road to a familiar place where ghosts sigh and murmur amidst the beech trees, and a happiness seems to linger.

There amongst the green the children ran and ran and ran, excitedly calling to one another, small hands busy finding treasure in the humus and leaves, their voices echoing off the trees, bouncing through the leaves.

And there in the virescent light a stillness found us, as though we sank into a verdurous pool of that magic that is leaf-sunlight, our thoughts straying to those lingering ghosts that dwell among these trees, and a silence fell over us for the briefest of times.

In the end the rain found it's way down the mountains, and today we awoke to a slow smothering of moisture that soaked and sank in to the earth, our clothes, our skin, filling the air with moisture, like a silvery haze. All day.
Finally.

A Thousand Heartbeats.

2011-09-24T23:30:00.000+01:00

Look! Look up! The Swallows! Oh!

Yes, this is how our very lovely weekend finished up. And what a magical end to a curious and surprising few days.
A weekend that found us as though in a lovely dance back through time, a gentle trip that took us beyond the normal, everyday, expected places we find ourselves. That brought us into a beautiful, abandoned house I have passed countless times and never before entered, now (but briefly) filled with art and people who's paths I have not crossed in years. An evocative mix of faces, of familiar poses, standing together, talking, in rooms of art, as though time had stood still.

And then, in no time we were winding our way through the darkness, on a lonely road up and down mountains for more miles than I guessed it would be, to an olde pub in a wild place, and dear faces that time and distance have stolen from our everyday life.
And there, once again, as though we had found a little door to peek through time, we gathered around us those dear ones who meant so much, who were our Everyday, and yet who's lives now exist like kites on very long twine, somewhere in another world, in the mist and clouds between us. Still I hold tight, unable to let go. And oh! the sweetness of those short hours, sitting across from one another at last, with so much, and sometimes, too much, to say.

And then today, a day when summer came back to fetch her hat, and we took ourselves out into the garden and welcomed some visitors who hold the weekend's title of the Very Much Oldest Friends of the whole few days. People from my earliest years of childhood, some of whom I would walk past on the street for lack of knowing, yet are still connected, thanks to our Mothers.
For our Mothers first met one another all those decades ago when we were the babies and toddlers of the group, and they the new, young mothers.

They still meet up, to this day!

So, we gathered.
And honestly, it really was a strange and poignant gathering, for this time I felt as though I was somehow in my own future, as though I suddenly roused and found I was no longer one of the children, but a mother, and I sat with these strangers, who I knew, somewhere in my bones, I knew. And our children ran around us, dashing through the sunlight, like memories behind my eyes.

And there across the table I watched my mother and her life-long friends, these five girlish Grandames, as they talked and laughed as only old friends do, and I thought of my own old friends, and I marvelled at the extraordinary power of friendship, and how time is rendered powerless by it.

And then, this evening, not long after everyone parted company, as the quiet descended around the house, we heard it, the sound of quivering feathers and calls to rally, the clear, sharp cries of a thousand swallows.

The air was filled.

A thousand tiny heartbeats, the rush of feathers, calling, calling to one another.

Getting ready to fly.

The Finest Season.

2011-09-17T14:46:00.002+01:00

There is a chilly~ness to the air these mornings, do you feel it? It's time to close the windows, take the door off the latch, usher the chill and the curious leaves out the door as we close it. After the school run I return to find cats snoozing in sunny corners, and a stillness settles on the empty house, a stillness settles in me.

We have wandered into the outer skirts of Autumn, where the leaves still cling to the trees like bright banderole, little flags waving to us in their finest hour, and as we pass beneath them I am surprised to find somehow the routine of school has brought with it a familiar comfort.

One that includes being witness to that magic hour of dawn, of leaving the house before the sun has warmed the earth, the cool air like a whisper on my skin. One that includes condensed little parcels of productive time, so different from the carefree, whimsical summer-time, and considered meals that are a little more protracted in the making, providing a sense of sustenance and nourishment, and one that brings an actual bed~time for our brood of dearlings.

Scattered in amongst the sunlit days, we have had squally showers and a fetch of wild winds that howled for two days and a night causing many people to lose many things, including their nerve, their dignity, a small child on a bike (nearly), their gusto, and an imaginary toupee!

It was wild, but still we ventured out, and on one of the days we took to the hills after school, headed inland and up, wound our way through tree lined roads to a warm welcome in little house that nestles there, in amongst the green.

Will and Anita's woodshed. Preparing for winter.

And so, as small boys scattered, an echo of footsteps and excited voices, (emerging shortly to race into the garden as bears and knights and monsters), we mothers sat, hands wrapped around warm coffee cups, and talked up a storm, a long overdue catch~up kind of talk, the kind that covers many months and miles in a mere couple of hours.

The bounty of their garden.

We are submerging slowly now, into this, the finest of the seasons, it's bounty a cornucopia that swells around us by the day, urging us on towards the darkening of the year, the hedgerows and trees bowed down in sweet supplication, whispering to us, 'Jam! Jam! You need jam!'

And as I submerge, I soak it all up, as though storing in my bones for winter the finest of this season, the warmth and bounty and goodness, and I take it with me as I move through the cooling air and the first falling leaves, and all around me I hear murmurings of how you all love autumn best, and how you too are overcome by a growing desire to make and mend and settle in to the evenings that are drawing in around us.

Anita's handmade soap.

And although my plans for the end of the week were somewhat scuppered by my enthusiasm to do just about everything with my newfound long hours in the morning, and in doing so, I went and put my back out. So instead of getting any of the actual making that I had been planning, done, I have been killing time by playing with both Instagram (See the link in my sidebar on the right) and Pinterest, (Click the link to see!) with great enjoyment, I might add, but somehow just not quite so satisfying as bringing a vision in your head into 'real life'.

So here this showery Saturday finds me, in between hobbling around like a bent old Sean-bhean bhocht (poor old woman!), attempting to let go of my disappointment and just do what little I can. At least my favourite blue coat now has all it's buttons, and I may just finish my latest redwork.

And it is, after all, the weekend, and one, now, without any plans to do anything.

What are you doing this weekend? I hope it's something lovely!

(Almost) Wordless Wednesday: Sing Together.

2011-09-07T14:24:00.000+01:00

Friends, only love can bring peace,
so let us love with all our hearts....

One Of Those Days.

2011-09-05T23:21:00.002+01:00

There is a sycamore lined road I take each morning, where, above the neat rows of houses the mountains shadow one another high in the distance, today one basking in sunlight while behind it's sister lay shrouded in rain.
This morning, I saw them, the first bright splashes of red that have begun to appear amongst the leaves as we passed between the trees, wending our way in a shiny metal snake of cars, curving between trees and mountains on our daily chug.
We are truly Back To School now, our days slowly finding their well trodden groove, settling back in with just the smallest of sighs. Yet my mind is still eager to wander, to search for bright places where it can, and so, distracted as I was today by an unexpected row with Our Eldest first thing this morning, I reached into the sunlight for something positive, so in need of some yoga. We spent the last few months traveling south down the coast to our summer yoga quarters, and having missed a couple of classes recently it was with joyful relief I made my way to our local place only to find I was a week early....

And so I took a little walk, and pondered the unexpected bruising of the heart that we Mother's endure, the thoughtless words a child may say in the heat of the moment that we must absorb and somehow find the right way to bring to a positive ending.

And when I left after a while I drove without thinking and found myself back by the sea. The reassuring, ever dependable sea.

And I walked.

And as I sat in the sun, regretting I had not brought my togs, so lovely was the sun and the sea, I took that quiet time alone to pause and breathe and ponder some more, and as I stood to leave I understood that although I may not know the answer yet, going home with a peaceful, open (if bruised) heart was enough, and the answer would be provided in the right time.

And so of course tonight, what did I find when I opened my computer but this most lovely, timely, heartening video of a Dharma talk given to children by Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh, that I now must share with whomever of you would like to watch it.

My heart is eased, my mind returned to my body.
And yes, the first thing he did, this errant boy of mine, upon arriving home, was apologise.

The Gathering Season.

2011-09-01T23:40:00.008+01:00

It must be Autumn creeping in around the doors, like a little field~mouse seeking warmth, a cosy sun spot inside, out of the wind. Windows are no longer left open all day, the last of the summer's roses tapping at the glass, nodding their fading heads, sighing in sadness.

Now we find, before we venture out into the day, we rummage for socks, for errant shoes hiding way back among the dust and forgotten winter raiment, delve into drawers for something a little warmer to buffer the slight chill that sneaks up, kisses our skin.

Along the laneway the blackberries are promising to make up for our paltry tomato harvest, the first fallen leaves follow us, swirl in lazy dust devils at our heels, and the wires are lined with fat little starlings arriving for the winter, the air thronging with swallows, terns, and birds of all kinds readying themselves for the coming journey. And some days guns crack and echo out in the marsh, startling the trees that shake themselves, sending reams of birds into the grey air.

This morning, facebook kindly reminded me of my status this day last year: "All day the house was filled with butterflies, wandering inquisitively in open windows and doors, their curious dance arresting our gaze. And now they sleep, lining the walls of the rooms with their dusty dreams. I love this time of year." It made me realise, in contrast to last years garden, this year there seems to be a dearth of butterflies and sadly, moths too, though the season for them is still young enough, I hope.

And yes, it must be Autumn, for beside my bed is a gathering of another kind, an assemblage of books and magazines that are all about inspiration and making, for my fingers have begun to itch, to twitch and itch and long for thread, for wool and the deftness of needles and pins, the snip, snip of tiny scissors.

That longing that seems to migrate every Summer like a fickle bird, to leave me, to inexplicably leave all conscious parts of my brain that instead fill with picnics and sunshine and sand. And while I hope we do get our quota of September beach days, they will be beach days with cardigans pulled on, and were you to peep into my sewing tin when I get home, you may just see an outstanding collection of fine, golden sand amongst the haberdashery there.

And so, woven tightly in with my back-to-school lament that I will spare you with here, is one tiny shiny thread of solace. More time. For making, stitching, writing. (And I may yet finish this small piece in the continuing Redwork Tale)

And as the green sinks back down into the earth again, and everything outside my window falls into a restfulness, except perhaps the sea, I will be sweeping away the dust that found it's way in through the open Summer doors, shaking out the creases, and with a sigh I shall seat myself down and close my eyes and listen.

And as the tingle and twitch my fingertips grows, I will not turn when the door behind me gently creaks open for a moment, and Autumn, my muse, slips in on a chilly wind and sets down her bags.

Photos 1, 2, and 3 taken in Anna's Lovely Garden.

Wordless Wednesday: First Day At Big School.

2011-08-31T14:06:00.000+01:00

We Wave Goodbye To Summer.

2011-08-28T23:55:00.000+01:00

So, here we are, the last night of the summer holidays. Our Only Girl is starting secondary school tomorrow, and then over the next few days the boys will go back too, The Smallest starting 'Big School'!

Photo of me and two of The Small Boys by Líosa.

We have made sure we made the most of these last couple of weeks, taking off to this place for a couple of nights with some friends.

And let's just say, it is a boy's paradise.

This is what they spent most of their time doing, so much so that when he was finally home in his own bed, two nights later, this almost 8yr old was heard wailing from his room, "I can't sleeeep. Every time I close my eyes all I can see is fish swimming in seaweed..."

They had the time of their lives. And even though it was only two nights, it was apparently the most amazing holiday ever, bless them!

There was also a bit of this....

...and lots of swimming, and even the teenagers had 'the best time!'

And of course....

YUM!

•*¨*•.¸¸♥ ¸¸.•*¨*•

And then, to finish the holidays off nicely, this weekend was spent catching up with old friends.

A most lovely farewell to a most lovely summer.

I do hope you all had a good one, and as the seasons roll around, and as the evenings begin to draw in around us, I wish you all bright, bright blessings!

Where My Heart Lies.

2011-08-21T13:41:00.003+01:00

Lately, as though standing still amidst a cascade, a tumult of warm rushing days, like bright ribbons that flutter and flick around us bringing outings and jaunts of the loveliest kinds, rekindling of friendships, forging new ones, I find my moments to pause, to take a breather, and literally breathe, watching the beautiful, colourful maelstrom of days that tumble on around us.

In amongst our days we have found ourselves weaving our way back and forth, up and down the coast, up and down this dear stretch of earth we are blessed to live in, south to wondrous beaches that are out of this world, north for an hour to our favourite city, and there, in between, nestled in a harbour, our home town.

And although we have not lived there for 15 years, this place has our hearts still, and I forget just how deeply rooted it is, and spending time there, more than fleeting visits to grandparents, has the effect of something like a burr that clings to us, burrows into our skin, finds our blood and floods our senses, and even as I write this I feel it, a flutter in my stomach. A memory.

Photo by My Only Girl.

So we climb our hill and lie in the sun, gaze out over the bay, and it is like an imprint somewhere deep inside me that possess me from the inside out, stirs up an unfathomable longing that cannot be shaken for days.

And yet....

....then we return home, to this little house just a few miles down the coast, where the sea booms down the chimneys, and jackdaws roost, the wind moans through the walls and whispers of ships and whales, where the reeds sweep and toss, cluster round us like old friends, murmuring words in our ears like 'comfort' and 'snug'.

And as the evening gathers, and the light slides along these walls of ours, I sink into the quiet that creeps out from the shadows as the children dash into the garden for the last bit of sunshine, I sit and listen to their voices, the laughter, that floats in the open window like little boats on the sounds of the sea, and a breeze stirs the curtain.

And as night finally settles in, I contemplate how it is possible to love two places equally, and that if I did leave here and go back, I would be no better off, for I would still love two places equally and it would simply be a mirror of now.

Photo by Líosa.

So we will quietly carry on loving two places, and watch the sun set over the mountains, the same mountains of home, and yes, actually, in the greater map of the world, they are, after all, one and the same.

Wordless Wednesday: Brothers.

2011-08-17T00:27:00.000+01:00

Take My Hand, Come Walk With Me.

2011-08-13T11:05:00.000+01:00

There is somewhere I'd like to show you.

It's not far, though we do have to walk the last bit from the road.

But happy feet trip lightly when there is somewhere irresistible in sight.

Down through the verdant trees, where sunlight creeps to find us.

Oh, wait! A quick little swing on the way,

that thrill of the world spinning away,

the trusting certainty of coming back safely to earth.

Then on we go.

Here, many seasons ago the winter tides showed no mercy,

sweeping away the board walk one too many times,

so now, we find our own way.

Almost there!

Now, kick off your shoes, there, do you feel it?

Warm sand between your toes. Is there anything nicer?

I know the sun is playing hide and seek today, but it's balmy and warm,

and look, we have the beach to ourselves....

...well, almost.

We are all slightly envious of these happy campers!

It looks as though they've been here a while.

And oh, how the sea sparkles, teases, tantalizes us,

inviting us in.

And so, we while away the hours.

Friends come and go, and mothers sit and chat,

children dig and run and splash and play.

And as the shadows grow long, and we begin to gather our things,

someone must be buried before we leave, of course!

Then one final dip before we set our feet on the path again,

heading towards home.

And as we turn the car for home, we follow the winding road north along the coast,

through picturesque towns and villages, for a mere half hour, until we reach home.

And all the way there is a comforting, tired silence in the car, nodding little heads,

eyes lost in their gaze out the window, dreaming of white foam and billowing clouds,

and chips for tea.

Wordless Wednesday: Tea With Síofra.

2011-08-10T00:10:00.001+01:00

The Silence Between The Notes.

2011-08-06T21:50:00.001+01:00

"Wolfgang Mozart, one of the most brilliant, prolific composers of all time, said that music exists “not in the notes,” but rather, “in the silence between them.” Without the off-beats—the silent, restful moments—we would hear no sound."

Tonight my heart is full.

You know the way sometimes there is a slow accumulation of tiny things, small moments of awareness that drop into a pool in your unconscious over a period of time, until either the pool overflows and begins to seep into your conscious mind, or maybe they become a softly glowing thread that you gradually become aware of, there when you look up, like a beautiful bright web of light all around you?
For days now I have had a feeling as though I walk around trailing a string of bright balloons above me that I somehow cannot grasp, that still bob behind me every time I turn to try and see them.
I could not pin down what exactly it was that was settling inside me, what it was I wanted to write about.

Last night I sat in the growing dark, saw the sun sink behind the steadfast mountains, the scent of incense drifted in from another part of the house. Jay is meditating. A soothing silence settles around the house. A distinctive quiet that allows soft voices to surface out of the whirl that has been my week.

And so, it begins to come together. As I sit, I become aware of my aching limbs, tired after the morning's challenging yoga class, and coupled as it is with words from one of my daily reads (that I quoted at the beginning here) that has stayed with me all day, I understand.

I think what has found me is the beginnings of Mindfulness. An old and long-forgotten friend.

It definitely has to do with my now twice weekly yoga, (and whatever I can manage in between), and what this has brought me aside from the obvious physical.
A reaching out, for similar minds, for a plain on which to rest, to replenish myself, for people and places that fortify and sustain me in my daily rush, that refrain from negativity.
It is in what I seek out to read, whether books or blogs or online articles or what pages I choose to follow on facebook and in doing so choosing what is there each day on my wall.
It is in the books that Jay is reading, that lie on bedside table and on couches.
It is in the conversations we are having, the conversations I am having with others. That moment in an exchange with someone when a link is made and a spark happens and even if you don't know it immediately, that moment of warmth, of reassurance is there between you.

Yesterday evening I read this article that somehow crystallized it for me. I see now that, certainly not every time, but increasingly so, as I go through my day my awareness of each thing I do, the way each person interacts with me and I with them, whether my child, a friend or a stranger, is somehow slowed down, so I see each each exchange, each action with Presence Of Mind. And isn't that Mindfulness? And like muscle memory in yoga, there is a memory in my mind that this sits neatly and comfortably into. I have done this before. It's good to see you, my old friend.

I am not fully clear, fully aware, and may never achieve this, but the opening lines of the above linked article just about sums it up: "I can't tell you exactly when it occurred. My shift, I mean. My transition from being someone who does yoga to being someone who believes yoga, imbibes yoga, embodies yoga."

And this belief, for me, also applies to Mindfulness. I believe Mindfulness. I believe it to be something more positively powerful than we can imagine.

"It’s now—as we interact with our children, as we smile at a stranger, as we choose to forgive—that our practice radiates and resonates."

As we interact with our children. As we smile at a stranger. As we choose to forgive.

As we choose.

Wordless Wednesday: Play.

2011-08-03T00:13:00.000+01:00

Before They Fly The Nest....

2011-07-29T00:33:00.002+01:00

Thoughts of a Mother when she spies her chicks testing their wings.

Has anyone ever noticed how easy it is to blog with small children in your ether? How the tiny, busy hands just beg to be photographed? The little tousled heads bent over a treasure, a wondrous find? Oh, the ease, and the countless magic moments that present themselves each day if we pause and look up for a minute.
It has been on my mind lately how the years are racing by, just a breeze glancing past my ear at times, and suddenly our small ones are not small but big, and we have two teens in the house who, because there are still two more small ones here, often escape my camera and I seldom blog about them any more.

For what do they do but sleep and lounge and eat, with no interests other than friends and music, no concept of a world outside their own, and a social life I am rarely privy to? Oh we are in the midst of someone else's Age Of Unreason. Remember that? Not the unreasonableness of a toddler. That is sweetly endearing. Most of the time.
No, this is the teen version.
I have no doubt many of you reading this are fantastically familiar with this?

And while it is the most natural, gradually evolving process, so subtle for the most part you barely notice it creep into your household, still, one day you find it is there, has swelled to fill hidden corners you never saw, is now like a presence right there with you, these people whose passage out of the green scented bowers of childhood is fast approaching, who are no longer completely immersed, but are treading water, heads glistening, excited faces turned towards the sun, about to strike out for shore, so sure of their way.

And while there are times we disagree with their methods and means, can see how difficult they make it for themselves, still, we have to stand back and let them figure it out, (with the occasional firm guiding hand when inexperience is a danger!) for let's face it, they have yet to realise that their previously held, and now somewhat doubted, belief that we, their parents, know everything, may not be that simple and straightforward, but is nonetheless still kind of true.

And do you know what? So far, I have been nothing but heartened. Heartened and reassured. By their choice of friends, and the way they are with one another, by the tales that have come back to me via other parents of their thoughtfulness and, at times, their courage to stand up for their friends, to stick to their principals and say 'Now hang on just a minute!'
So I am happy to stand back, to let them test their boundaries, test their wings, but in doing so provide a place they can come back to, a place they want to bring their friends, and that their friends want to came to.
For I am not yet ready to let them go.
Not just yet.

Wordless Wednesday: Together.

2011-07-27T00:11:00.002+01:00

Wordless Wednesday: Stolen Time.

2011-07-20T09:25:00.000+01:00

The Art Of Unbeknownst Frittering.

2011-07-18T10:30:00.001+01:00

Off chasing sunshine wherever, whenever we can. Between showers, bursts of sun. We race to catch them, one by one, sure of it's wondrous powers. A pinch of happiness to pinken our cheeks.

At night rain on the rooftop, the house smelling of woodsmoke, the damp green air through the window that sits ajar. Awakening before dawn to a goldenorange moon spilling in flaming splendour down upon the mountains.

In the morning the house is full of moths, the garden sighs and heaves up, pushing up the green, and quickly we gather our things, a hurried shuffle out the door, driving away from our own lovely beach in search of sand and safe swimming.

For we have found ourselves in the midst of it, the holidays almost halfway done. Where has the time gone! We have frittered it and not even known!
And startled, we call to one another, spurred on by the sun that travels across the mountains, finding a different spot to rest each night, just a tiny bit further along.

We call and cry to one another, a new urgency upon us, Quick! Quick! There is fun to be done!

Wordless Wednesday: Cloud Gazing.

2011-07-13T12:50:00.000+01:00

The Tides Of Summer Rolling In.

2011-07-10T14:13:00.002+01:00

Like an old friend, Summer has arrived again. Arrived and shaken out her bag, and we clamour round to peer in expectation, revealing a sparkling array of gatherings, of friends and family and celebrations.

And so we have been busy!

Making the most of the warmer weather, we have been shindigging and sharing, gathering and convening in all manners, spending time with family and friends.

We celebrated the arrival of summer, and the arrival of My Only Sister and her Darling Cherub all the way from the US, with our Annual Summer Solstice Party, a gathering of particular meaning and importance to me. And to be honest, what I would write here about that night I could not better what I wrote last year about it.

What is it? What is it in us humans that drives us to come together and share food and swap news and smooth out the wrinkles of time that have accumulated between us since last we saw one another until there are none?

For all my pre-party stress I would not give this up. Even if I find that I miss out on actually speaking to some who come, for sheer want of just sitting down for a spell! This Gathering Together, this reconnecting, or indeed forging new connections, is the beat of my heart, is what fuels my passage through this blessed life I have been bestowed with. It is the oxygen in my blood.

Photo by Líosa.

And as I said before , if ever I need an affirmation, if ever I need an injection of wonder, of heartening wonder at the circle of life, then this annual event is just that.

To witness, by virtue of this One Day a year, the passage through life of all these children as they swarm around us momentarily, and then fly off into the distant sun, they're wings outstretched in joyful anticipation, this is what gives me wings too.

So, as the air grows milder in this temperate isle of ours, as we brave our mediocre summer, we will, in true stalwart Irish fashion, make the most of it and carry on as though we basked in hot sun, regardless. We will take ourselves off to visit friends, and call them to visit us.

We will break bread and touch our glasses together, salute the long days. Give thanks for the bounty of friendship, more than anything, and the means to celebrate it.

And in doing so, I like to think somewhere, deep in their bones, our children will find these threads are woven tight, and so will continue this weaving and pulling together of family and friends, of holding tight.

For in the end it is in the weaving together we find our cushion in life. That which in turn holds us.

Before We Came Home To Rain....

2011-06-28T23:42:00.000+01:00

...we flew in search of sun and dear friends.

All the way to Madrid, where we warmed our bones for a few days, and walked our feet off, ate seafood and sipped cold drinks, toasting the now Official Teenager that is Our Only Girl.

It was probably the first time she has ever had her parents all to herself for more than a few hours!

A brief but welcome escape...

...before we came home to rain....

The Milkmoon Kittens at Wimbledon.

2011-06-25T15:55:00.000+01:00

Just thought I'd share this funny video my brother Chris took the other day of our kittens!

See how they've grown! They are the most ridiculous things. Ridiculously cute.

What We Did In School One Day.

2011-06-20T22:42:00.005+01:00

~*~

Mosaic, murals, marbling, weaving, building, drawing, tie-dying, puppets, pottery, printing, jewellery,

drumming, turf-mazing, juggling, special effects make-up, sugar paste, felt-making, batik.....

and I just know I'm forgetting many more....

~*~

I'd like to tell you about something. A place, actually. An incredible, unique place. A place where the word community means something. Where you can see, in action, just what it means when something is truly the sum of what is put into it. For all the human frailties and stumbles along the way, when heartfelt love and the best intentions fill something up it will always sail strong and true, even in squally weather.

This is our school.

A place where our children learn about democracy, and humanity, and equality. Where they learn, through colourful and exciting practical projects, and hands on experience, just what it means to be a part of this wonderful, magical existence that is being human, being part of this world of ours.

These pictures may be of just one, exceptional day that takes place each year, but it is a sparkling example of just how magical a place it is. After ten years of attending Art Day, this year I was suddenly struck by just how unique it is. This event may be the biggest, funnest and most popular of them all, but it really is just one of many throughout the year where our children are shown that it is not just lip service, that we really do believe in the best of them. That they can be the best they can be. Yes they are children, with all the necessary mischief and shenanigans that are part and parcel of being so, but ultimately they are trusted and respected, and here, given an autonomy I have rarely seen elsewhere.

And in return they give it all they've got, throwing themselves into whatever it is they are engaged in, with unselfconscious, joyful abandon. I cannot think of anything more we could want from them, can you?

Here they are forming themselves into the adults they will be, laying the cornerstones of their future selves, discovering how to be. And this here is also why we drive 12km to school every day.

Because here is a place where exceptional people, the staff and parents, have taken what could have been an ordinary national school and, over years, turned it into something extraordinary. And I do know it is not unique. All over the country, all over the world, there are exceptional people who dedicate themselves to giving our children what very few of us had, to giving them something extraordinary to take with them into their future.
A belief in themselves and the possibility of being The Best Person They Can Be.

But I do feel blessed to be part of something that really does do 'what it says on the tin!' Here is a school that has an ethos that truly is part of the fabric of it's daily life, that holds it high and says, of course we can do this, because we can do our very best. And that, after all, is good enough.

And as the year comes to a close, Our Only Girl is preparing to leave this place that has been a very significant part of her life, that has seen her grow from a quiet, thumb-sucking 5 year old, to the confident, amazingly together 13 year old who is sailing forth without qualm.

And although she makes ready, with great excitement, to follow her big brother on to secondary school, it has been heartening, and heartbreaking, to see these children prepare to say goodbye to one another, after eight years together, every day.

The bond between them, as a group, is unlikely to ever be replicated again in their lives, something they don't realise, but I do believe is so deeply ingrained in them that it is truly a part of them. Some of them are moving on together, but all is about to change, as I saw with Our Eldest two years ago, and life is about to stretch out it's dewy, tender wings.

So this is my own heartfelt thank you, to all you amazing people, past and present, who have made this place what it is today. So although one more of our Dearlings is leaving, we still have one in midflow, and one more, The Smallest, just about to start. My time is not yet done here. And though at times, the driving in particular seems interminable, I cannot think of a better place to be.

We are blessed. My heart is full.

Shivering Green.

2011-06-19T23:41:00.000+01:00

I think it was the rain that woke me,

or someone murmuring through the walls in their sleep,

the sky still light in it's strange pale midnight

where the curtains were not drawn.

The irony that is midsummer.

Did I Miss Anything?

2011-06-06T12:14:00.001+01:00

I'm still here, chasing sun and waves and music and time out.
We were not finished with sickness in this house. It's been the worst year ever, but hopefully we have turned the corner now, and everyone is determined to enjoy themselves as the sun comes out, the school year winds down, and thoughts turn to frivolity and fun.
I am having problems with uploading photos, hence the dodgey iPhone shots on this post, which I hope lend a certain nostalgic dreaminess to it.
I have been out, as I said, finding thrills in all kinds of places, such as spectacular live shows like this one.

Sufjan Stevens in the Olympia, Dublin.

I travelled north west, to the wild, wild sea for a weekend of surfing, (yes, you did read that right!), incredible seafood, and the best company. A weekend of switching off and winding down and getting away from it all. Something I haven't done in years and years and years.

I liked it....a lot.

Bundoran.

The important things: great company, great food.

And with Jay finally home, we have managed to escape a little too, off into the city, in the sun, for more live music.

Summer in the city.

Phosphorescent, The Workman's Club, Dublin.

And yes, the sun is making a gradual comeback, and we have seized it and run with it, run to the beach.

Silver Strand.

So hopefully normal blogging will resume in the next day or so. In the meantime, in about five minutes I will be off out the door to walk (let's be realistic!) the Dublin Women's Mini-Marathon. And if any of you fancy sponsoring me, it's for a very good cause. Here is the link to my donation page, as well as information about the charity of my choice, CARI (Children At Risk in Ireland)

The sun is shining here, I do hope it is shining wherever you are too!

Warmly And Affectionately Yours....

2011-05-16T15:56:00.001+01:00

Where does the time go? Does it sneak out the open window when my back is turned? A slippery trickster who somehow can be too much or too little at the same time, it seems, and never whichever one you most want.
Jay has been gone a month now, and we are on the final countdown to his return in a few days. And in these weeks that seemed to stretch interminably we have somehow done very little, yet a lot has happened.

For example......

....these five little dearlings arrived quietly in the night a week ago. Five little bundles of joy that have leant the house a hush, a desire to creep and whisper and peek every so silently around the door at this little nest of sweetness. There is something so heartening and reassuring about tiny baby animals, it brings out the softness in even the coolest teenagers! And what is most heartening is that each of these little things is going to a home we know and love so we will be able to continue with the sweet love affair that has begun here in our home.

We have, as always, been surrounded by the most wonderful friends who fed and entertained us beyond measure, and who remind me just how lucky I am to have somehow landed in this place that seems to have an excess of Remarkable Humans who take the true meaning of friendship to heart and deliver every time.

And they also brought much sustenance, joy and laughter, through two suspected cases of Fifth's Disease, a dose of Chicken Pox, which was swiftly followed Croup. *sigh* I may be wrong, but these things only ever seem to happen to this extent when Jay is away....!
And on the subject of joy, can I just share this wonder with you? Elaine Prunty, she of Jaboopee fame created one of her marvellous Toy Portraits of this little family of mine. I Laughed Out Loud upon opening the package that Jimmy the Postman brought to my door, so thrilled and delighted to receive it.

L to R: The Eldest, My Only Girl, The Dude, The Smallest, Me (yes, the taxi driver!), and My Hero.

So now, as the last few days tick by, and as Jay's homecoming approaches, it feels as though I have got the better of time for a while, (until that is, I read back at just how little writing I got done, and how little blogging too!) I take a moment to look around and once again feel a deep Gratitude for all that I have.

Where We Stole Away To.

2011-05-04T12:20:00.001+01:00

Does anyone else feel that sense of urgency? That sensation of an unseen hand tenderly lifting the lid on the year, letting the sun in to warm us, to bring us to life? We feel our roots stretch out, digging into the dark earth, our limbs reaching up towards the light, eager for it's sustenance, and all around us Life begins to stir in the warmth.

We are back to school, yes, but the late Easter break means suddenly we are facing the end of the school year, and I watch as the children shake off and leave behind the last of their winter mantles and run full pelt towards the sun.

Easter was abundantly chocolatey, and full of egg hunts and lazy pajama days.

The blossom is early on all the trees!

And the sun hardly faltered once. So much so that no sooner were they in to eat, than they were gone again, my kitchen echoing with their departing cries and dashing footsteps away into the sunlit garden.

We took a few days trips, but in the end, not as many as we had planned. Somehow, once the sun came it was hard to want to go anywhere.

We have had two full weeks of astounding sunsets. How is it possible to not tire of this?

If you'd like to see, do please take a peek over on my blog A Year At My Backdoor.

And we had a birthday. A rather important Fifteenth Birthday!!

Yes, our Eldest is now fifteen. It seems rather unbelievable actually!!

And though today is back to the slightly cooler weather more normal for this time of year,

still, we are on the right side of Spring now, headed in the right direction, aren't we?

Here's to the days of summer that are rolling in on the tide.

Turning My Face To The Steadfast Sun.

2011-04-22T09:40:00.000+01:00

8.12am and the house is still quiet. It's the Easter holidays after all. My usual routine is to put on the kettle, then go and browse as I decide where to look for this mornings soundtrack. But today as I make my morning pot of coffee, for once I hold off on pressing the play button. Instead I savour the silence and I listen. To the ticking clock, the birdsong just outside the window, the water just beginning to boil, and just before that takes over, in the distance the sound of the surf hitting the stones. There is a blue haze over the mountain, indistinct wispy cloud cover, altogether another day that promises gold.

We are four days in to the holidays now, and four days in to another three week stint away from Jay. To keep to our usual pattern, so far the car has behaved itself, but we do have one (possibly two) unwell little boys. It's always one or the other.

But the sun is shining. And there is no school. And that makes it all the difference.

I hope the sun is shining wherever you are!

What We Found Upon Opening The Door One Morning.

2011-04-19T22:02:00.003+01:00

A rather surprising thing has happened.
But hush, we cannot talk too loudly, for if the lady in question were to hear her mistake she may just pack up and leave, and then what would we do!

Let me tell you.... Summer, yes Summer came calling! When first we heard her tap on the door we looked at one another and wondered and shook our heads in surprise, unsure if really it was she.

But upon opening the door, here she was, not yet in all her glory, no, for so far she has not unpacked, but here nevertheless. And we said nothing, no, not a word of her mixed up calendar did we utter, but invited her in and took her coat and made her some tea.

And so we bide our time as the temperature creeps up, and the hazy sunshine begins to work it's magic and warm our wintered bones, and we go about our business, murmuring in hushed voices, straining to not laugh too loudly or explode with glee lest she rouses herself and finds she is not where she ought to be.

For it has happened before, we are told, and sometimes she will wake with a start, and leap up in a fluster and run out the door, cheeks aflame with chagrin, ne'er to be seen again until the year has rolled round once more.

But sometimes, just occasionally, she will settle in, unfurl her parasol, pour herself a rather long, cool drink, and smile indulgently as we bask in her glow, unfurling ourselves, and luxuriating in her extended stay.

We may not really believe this, but today we can pretend.

~*~

It is with great pleasure I announce that

Martin H.

and

Mise

are the winners of my giveaway!

A signed copy of The Lonely Beast on it's way to you both shortly.

A Giveaway of a Most Beastly Kind!

2011-04-10T09:55:00.001+01:00

Now this post is long overdue. Yes, but here it is at last. The Lonely Beast has been launched!

You may remember I posted here before about my brother Chris and his children's book, The Lonely Beast? Well, to celebrate it's launch I have two copies to give away, signed by the lovely author himself.

Now I know, of course, that I am bound to be a tad biased about the wonderfulness of this delightful book, but hand on my heart it truly is something special, as attested by the honest reaction of the many, many children I know who have read it, my own younger two being no exception. They know it off by heart at this stage. It really is a sweet and charming story, and a pleasure to read.

You can find out more about this fellow if you click here, and the website has lots of lovely things like games and things to make , and your little ones can send in their own drawings too! You can also see some pictures of us at the launch in Dublin, where we got to meet the Beast himself! Very exciting.

The author, Chris Judge, and The Beast at the launch of their book.

The book is available to buy here, or directly from Chris here, and as I said I will be giving away two signed copies here on Milkmoon. All you need to do is leave a comment and your name will go in the hat.

Do check out Chris' other prints here, they are the most cheerful, funny things that will brighten any room, I promise!

What I See As I Pause.

2011-04-05T23:52:00.000+01:00

Summer sallies forth, still away down the road a bit, yes, but in the distance we can see the dust she stirs up with her blowsy skirts and kicking heels. We await impatiently with bated breath.....

Wordless Wednesday.

2011-03-30T22:54:00.000+01:00

A Week Of Pictures.

2011-03-20T23:26:00.000Z

This last month has felt like a marathon of some kind. One of those crazybusy times when you feel as though your feet don't touch the ground, and you have no purchase on your thoughts. When the quiet moments are fleeting and gone before they are grasped.

But this weekend feels as though the work is done and we can now hopefully drift on the momentum we gathered, towards the summer, towards a time of ease. Not realistic, I know, but this evening as I sit in the quiet house, the clock ticking and the sea booming in the distance, after this most lovely day we have had, I look through my photos of this week to see which ones I want to share with you, (and for these few moments I allow myself this most unrealistic of thoughts!).

So here is a glimpse into our week. And a busy, fun-filled week it was. The best kind of week in fact, with family and friends and good times shared.

The funfair came to town...

....and there was a ball to be had!

And the sun came out. And stayed.

There were quiet moments too....

....and moments when little hands got busy.

There was a parade to attend on St. Patrick's Day....

....and presents to open, a heart's desire fulfilled.

For today we celebrated a Very Important Fourth Birthday!
The Smallest is now a whole lot bigger.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY B!

Although I feel tired, it's a very satisfied and fulfilled kind of tired, and even though it's Monday tomorrow and we are back to school after an extra long weekend, we are already counting down the days until the Easter holidays and sure before we know it it'll be summer, won't it!!

So, warmest blessings to you all on this magical, supermoon-filled Equinox. I have no doubt that this is why my heart is overflowing tonight.

And may your week to come be gilded by magic.

Something In The Air.

2011-03-10T22:36:00.003Z

Although the cold has not given up the ghost, creeping as it does around the edges of our recent days, still we are warmed by the defiant sun that holds on to more and more minutes of each passing day like a champion.

We are back to school now and enjoying the brighter mornings, the lingering evenings. Grabbing time outdoors whenever we can. Taking deep lungfulls of Spring, offering our skin to the warming air in tiny increments, willing the sun to find us.
And find us it does, most days.

There is an air of busyness about town, found in the flurries and flocks of birds that climb the sky above our heads, wheeling in joyful dedication, thrilled even more than we are to see the returning light.

And we cannot help ourselves: in our hearts we are soaring with them!

This morning, a crowd of curlews chased one another above the marsh, calling and keening, their wings pale against the dark of the evergreen trees beyond, catching the sunlight and holding on to it for us.

We are climbing up out of the winter circle, out of the slumbering earth.

Breaking forth.

~*~

Today I am grateful to have both Jay and my parents home safely at last.

Gratitude: The Quality Of Being Thank-Full.

2011-02-26T11:18:00.001Z

What is it that happens to us when Spring arrives? What is it? Does our heart stretch out it's tender wings, flutter them tentatively in the warming air, do we pause and take a breath? Do we raise our heads in wonder, suddenly aware that Winter's teeth no longer snap at our heels?

We have had a busy, muddy week of no Jay, no school and lots of friends. Wonderful, thoughtful friends, who took us up mountains and on adventures, took us into their homes and fed us, (even though it sometimes feels to me that we arrive like an small invading country!), aware of our lack of Jay again and eager to be of help, dear ones that they are.

And although the first few days of the midterm break were soggy downpour sorts of days, all we really noticed were the carpet of purple crocuses in a corner of the garden, the sudden green tips on the rosebushes outside the open window that seemed to nod in a giddy, skittish way at us, and most of all the air and the light! Oh most wondrous light!

We spent our days traipsing and tramping, splashing through mud and puddles, or gathered around tables and sharing food together. We laughed and talked and deepened our bonds. And I watched, my heart swelling with quiet joy, as our dearlings, both big and small, forged their own, without knowing and without pretense. Their openhearted offerings of friendship to one another a reassuring inspiration.

Lately I find myself thinking about gratitude, thinking about the act of thankfulness and how it is manifested each day in our lives, or not. Of how we need to remind ourselves to be grateful, to be Full of Thanks, and that really, to live a life that embodies this would be a life truly worth living. It is an attainment I hope for and aim for, and need daily reminders for.
I no longer sit and meditate. I haven't for years. The daily rush of family life took over and it slipped quietly away. But in recent years I found a new way, a way that fit into the little slivers of time I found. Living each day with a knowledge that I would be writing about it here, on Milkmoon, has created a little sitting buddha in my head, a mindfully aware little buddha who gently prods me, reminds me to pause and take note. To be thankful. Even when, like any practice, it is a struggle, as it has been of late.

But then you, dear readers, in your own way, you are reminding me too. We are all prompting and prodding one another each day when we blog, sharing our individual moments of gratitude, putting it out there. And just today I read dear Rima's latest post which is on this very subject, which left me wondering just what this blogging we are all doing is creating for the future? An exciting and blog-affirming thought!

And so, this sunny morning I sit at my table with a pot of coffee, the window open, the quiet house just beginning to stir, and I think back through my week and how this little family's thread danced and crisscrossed and wove with so many others, and how the threads here in the Forest of Blog also weave together into another, different layer in my life, and how both will continue to do so, on and on and on, into who knows where.
And I am filled with gratitude, and a renewed sense of purpose.

Thank You.

Through My Window.

2011-02-15T23:22:00.001Z

I am here, drinking in the tiny smidgeons of extra light we find waiting at the window in the morning, that deepening blue that seems to draw the dawn into it impatiently, soaking up the light, making a promise.

It does the heart good to open the door and let the breeze in, let the little ones out, to not have to hear myself say repeatedly throughout the day, 'Close the doooor!!!' To have a window open and for it to be pleasant.

There is still a nip in the air, and we've had a lot of wind and rain, but take a little wander around the garden and there are crocuses hiding in the grass, and the rose bushes are covered in tiny green buds, and children dashing past and oh, yes, it does the heart good.

And I give thanks.
Because I do find this time of year the hardest. It's when I want to walk away from this old house of ours, from the cold and the endless upkeep and repairs, from the hours spent driving, and the way my time is eaten into.
But everyday brings something magic that still catches me unaware, (even if only this view from my window) as though for the first time ever, and holds me there, at the beginning of joy once again.

And although I am still struggling to find the time and the inspiration to blog, it has not escaped my awareness that blogging is my magnifying glass to magic.
And that is worth more than I can say!

Tenacious Winter, She Breathes, She Does Not Yet Sleep.

2011-01-22T18:45:00.000Z

But close you eyes against the sun, for this golden haze will bring a memory,

a memory to warm your skin.

A Redolent Air Comes Stealing.

2011-01-18T23:16:00.000Z

You know that feeling, this time of year, when you step out into the still dark garden, into the early morning, after the frost has gone, and the air tingles with tentative birdsong, and you pause and look to one another, searching in the deep blue shadows for the others surprise.

The air is warm! And you both smile and move off the step and into the day.

And all day your eyes are on the skies, your ears are pricked, your nose may even twitch, your bones just know.
Spring is somewhere, hidden still, shy and not quite ready, but heralded by every feathered harbinger that cannot keep their tongue, by the teasing air that startles your skin, sets it aquiver, by the sun that seems caught in the trembling reeds, caught in the evening that stays a little longer.

And even though you know the cold is not done with us, and the frost may well be there tomorrow, still, you have Sense-ed the Spring.

And she is not so far away.

When At Last This Night Is Upon Us, Fie On It!!

2011-01-09T22:43:00.000Z

We are firmly inside the door of the new year. Shh, pause and listen for a spell. We do not look over our shoulder as we hear the quiet click behind us.

No.

Hipstamatic photos.

Instead we gather around us those dear ones that mean something to us, we pull tight the lovely threads that have slipped and loosened, carefully, with sure and steady fingers we weave them back into the fabric that is Us. And there they lie once more, caught fast, held tight, blending brightly and perfectly, just where they always were.

We have spent the last week catching up with family and friends, establishing new bonds, reaffirming old ones, attempting to stay warm.
Tonight, the house is quiet, little heads already slumber on fragrant pillows, sleep staving off the inevitability of school tomorrow.
After almost a month off, between snow and holidays, we brace ourselves for dawn.

Fie!! Fie!! Oh, most dastardly drudge! We do not like thee, no we do NOT!!

We DO like pajama days and lie-ins, and games late into the night,

and snowmen and endless, lazy meals with dearlings, (and a glass of wine or two along with it,)

and nowhere in particular to be, and a long neglected clock that may or may not still be correct,

and pancake mornings that seem to go on and on and on forever,

and many a moonlit dash through the sparkling garden, down the dark, dark path,

into the welcome glow, for tea or games or chat,

and the journeys together to join hands with family,

like the needle that pulls the thread, tracing back over each stitch yet again,

and the gathering of happiness that closes in around us,

and most of all,

time.

The Time Between The Years.

2010-12-31T19:13:00.000Z

So Christmas has passed,

and we lie quietly in the time between the years, when one year is closing and another preparing to open, when we reflect on what has passed and wonder what is to come.

And we pause.

Dawn, Christmas Day.

We have been spending our time quietly, enjoying the snow while it lasted, and now that it's gone we are glad to spend it with family, and dear friends, catching up and just being together. Celebrating a tiny new arrival in our family, a most perfect Winter Solstice gift.

I'd like to dedicate this post to my family, to these people who are my dependables, my unwavering bastions. Without them I would not be who I am today.
And I give thanks for the blessing, the honour that is mine, to share this privileged life I have been granted, with this group of incredible, amazing people. Truly, we have been touched with gold, haven't we?
I wish we could all be together tonight, this special night that closes this year behind us. So wherever you are as you celebrate, know that across the miles you are in my heart.

~*~

And, warmest blessings to YOU dearest readers,

for a peaceful New Year.

May it be shared with loved ones,

and may this coming year bring us all magic and blessings.

Thank you all for your continued support and comments,

it's what makes Milkmoon possible.

Love Ciara.

Safely Found And Homeward bound, At Last.

2010-12-27T09:37:00.021Z

And so, the latest episode in this little Redwork story is finally finished. Nothing like a looming deadline such as Christmas to give you a little push, is there? This was very slow in the making due to my limited free time to stitch, (with even reading still on the long finger). But it has been finished, at last.

My very patient Mum finally gets a piece! And now that Christmas Day is past I can share it with you.

And as always, the minute I finish one I am keen to start the next. Hopefully it will be slightly quicker in the making than this one was. But I do believe I say that every time...

I still have no real idea where this little story is going or how I will present it in the end, especially as I keep giving away these little stitcheries. But there is something here, I believe. And I have no doubt I will know what it is when I am finished.

Bright Blessings To You And Yours!

2010-12-24T08:58:00.000Z

Bright Blessings to you and yours for a

magical, peaceful Christmas and New Year.

May it bring warmth and good cheer to you all!

Look forward to catching up with everyone over the break,

and to getting back to some blogging myself.

See you here very soon!

Love from Ciara.

And Something Is Then Found!

2010-12-14T22:09:00.001Z

I cannot tell you how overwhelmed I am with the sweet and supportive comments from all you lovely readers on my last post. All you loyal and stouthearted readers! How could I possibly bow out now?

I have been disappointed so many times over the years when favourite bloggers have called it a day, and while I admire them for taking that step when they feel like that, I think, deep in my heart I know I am not there yet.

I do love all that this wonderful world has brought to me, things a lot of you mentioned, like the ability to take tiny moments and slow them right down as they whirl by you, to seize hold of them for just a second, to take that snapshot, to imprint it in your mind's eye and tuck it away into that little corner of yourself where you hold the precious keepsakes of your days. And I love all the amazing people like you that I have met, the beautiful corners of the world I get to peek into thanks to you all taking the time to share it with us.

So for now, I am content to maybe just step back a little, and take some time to put to rights all the things that have not been as right as they should be, like my children's health, and my house, to get Christmas all wrapped up and under the tree. To spend some time by the fire with my dear ones as the year draws to a close, and reflect on the coming new year.

I will continue posting when I can, and what do you say I'll probably find I am unable to stay away.

Something Is Lost...

2010-12-11T00:43:00.001Z

Do you ever wonder why or how you blog? I mean, how you find the time to fit it in to your busy day? I look around at all you incredible bloggers out there, and the tiny snippets of your lives that we glimpse in between the lines of loveliness you post, the little 'fragments of your days', and I wonder, how do we do it!
And to be honest I don't know.

The week in pictures,

A poorly boy. Again.

I have lately found myself struggling to capture the everyday magic that once came so easily to me. My camera more often than not lies forgotten as I run out the door, or dash about after small people with big bellies and hollow legs that need to be filled, and then, at night I find myself lying, eyes wide on the ceiling above as I try and recall some little fragment of magic that I know was there today. If only I could find it.
And even the pictures I do take seem to me to somehow highlight what I don't know about taking pictures. And to lack more than anything. They certainly don't inspire and excite me they way they used to.

Before the cold set in.

Maybe it's the time of year, you say. But no, it's been a long time coming. I went from blogging every day (imagine!) to three or four times a week, to now barely once a week. This is not good.
It's not that I have nothing to say, but more the beauty spins by so fast I don't have time to even try and grasp or capture it. The dizzy carousel of life I am on is just that bit too fast, it has run away from me
and I lost some things along the way.

Busy little hands at work.

And so for the last week and a half, while we had nowhere to go and time on our hands, we sewed and made for Christmas, and baked cakes and built dens, and we did our best to keep warm in an old house with no central heating, and invariably one by one we succumbed to coughs and colds.

Our time away from the world was lengthened.

What I found one morning.

I listened to music that made the snow fall, I watched films that gently pulled the blankets higher and tighter around us,

and the snow fell. The snow fell. And the snow fell.

Like an endless slumber we went under, we slipped away from the world...

Hipstamatic shots.

I have thought and thought about it, and no, I am not ready to give up Milkmoon. I don't think so. But I do wonder if, or how I can make all these pieces of mine fit...

How We Fell Into A Sleepy Torpor...

2010-12-02T19:49:00.000Z

We have been snowed in all week...

Something that is highly unusual for us at this time of year...

No school...

Nothing for it but to stay in and stay warm...

And feed the birds...

(Sorry Sparrow, you'll just have to watch from the window!)

We love it. You'll find not a whisper of 'Bah Humbug' from this household!
But as we live so close to the sea, the snow melts far too soon in our saltwashed garden, so we hope to get out and about tomorrow for some fun and games.

Hope you are having a lovely week wherever you are!

I Was Taken Away...

2010-11-28T19:54:00.003Z

Thank you all, for your warm wishes and sweet words. I've had a magical week.

Almost every day this week I was meeting with friends, breakfasting here, lunching there, being fed and spoilt, and pampered and gifted. It was wonderful. Absolutely wonderful. And I'd like to dedicate this post to all those dear folk, you know who you are!

Then, after depositing the children to my most generous (and uncomplaining) parents, on Friday myself and Jay rose in the small hours of the freezing morning and drove to the airport. I had no idea, until we were at the airport, where we were going!

All photos taken on my phone as my camera was on holiday too!

LONDON!

Books...

A favourite place of ours, and although it's only a couple of years since we were there, it's many more since we were there without any little people along.

And so, we spent a weekend wandering the streets, Covent Garden, Charing Cross, Primrose Hill, Portobello, Notting Hill, browsing bookshops and markets for hours.

Books...

And the highlight was a most exhilarating, spine-tingling, magical night with some dear friends, Tom and Nina, (thank you!!!) who brought us to see this incredible performer, Jónsi, who is someone both myself and Jay love, which is rare enough! It was, I think the best show I've seen, in the best year of amazing gigs I've ever had. And the most visually stunning. Take a look here and here to see what I mean. It was an Icelandic cornucopia of falling leaves, tidal waves, flocks of birds and butterflies, racing, chasing animals, and thunderstorms that breathlessly swept you away. I was moved to tears on more than one occasion, and the show is something that is impossible to do any justice to here. This man is a wonder. And I was left wondering just what creates someone with such vision and beauty and absolute magic that seems to explode out of his very pores.
I thought my heart would burst right out of my chest, and I was left feeling battered and bruised and elated all at once, such is the power of his music.
An amazing night, truly, and one I will never forget.

We packed a lot into our two days, and although it was cold, it was the most perfect, crisp, blue-sky kind of weather that made walking around very pleasant, once we were dressed for it!

And of course, when it's cold what do you do but eat! Which we did. Heartily. And often.
And while we didn't do much in the way of shopping, just being away, being able to sleep in, and wander and browse, is as much a tonic as anything.

...and more books!

The other highlight for us was visiting The Museum of Everything in Primrose Hill, which is holding an exhibition of the Collections of Sir Peter Blake. It was one of the most wonderful, surreal and completely Marvellous shows I have ever seen. Unfortunately photography is forbidden, with signs like "No Photography = £1000" and "No Photography = Death"! so I have nothing to show for it, and even their website, frustratingly, has no images. But it does have lots of links so if you have the time, do explore them, and be prepared to be amazed. Let's just say it is a magical, marvellous, experience, and at the same time strangely sad.
And if by any chance you will be in London any time soon, I urge you to pay it a visit.

A visit to the fabulous Pedlars shop in Notting Hill.

It was wonderful to have some quiet time to hang out together, after all the chaos and busyness of everyday-life-with-four-children and work taking Jay to the oddest corners of the world. We both agreed another two days wouldn't have gone amiss.

Thank you Jay, for an amazing weekend!

We came home to a snowy, winter wonderland, (more on that later), to happy children, to tired grandparents, and to not just a house warmed for us, but to dinner cooked for us, by Lisa. So thank you, thank you, thank you to you all!

I feel incredibly blessed.

It was a wonderful birthday week.

Just Popping In To Let You Know...

2010-11-24T17:09:00.000Z

It's my birthday.

It's a big one.

Yep, the big 40!

(Don't I look great?)

Sorry there has been a bit of a blogging slump going on here but I will be back very soon with, I think, something rather exciting!

So please excuse me for a little longer. I'm having a lovely time.

I'll be right back...

Quite Early One Morning.

2010-11-16T21:57:00.000Z

I took a short walk down the garden, and contemplated the arrival of Winter.

I took a few minutes to pause and breathe and wonder.

A few moments in which to gather myself.

To let go of the whirlwind of chaotic madness that took over my life for the last few days.

The running round chasing my tail driving endless forking out meeting needs hugs and kisses bumped knees shouting laughing toast and jam soup fireside stories bedtime waking up time bath time homework washing clothes friends coffee driving nagging nursing hugging walking breathing dreaming loving...
driving
driving
driving...

Yes. Jay is away again. And someone always gets sick!

Roll on the weekend...

Glimmer Lantern Glimmer.

2010-11-11T07:52:00.001Z

I thought I would share with you another post from our now defunct blog I mentioned before. This is something that we won't get to celebrate this year on the day as we have someplace else to be!

Tonight, my man, Jay, is having an exhibition opening in Dublin, so if any of you happen to be around then do join us! You can read about it here. So in the midst of him preparing for this we have had a run of sick kiddies and storm and flood warnings, all mixed in to the general daily tizzy and winter wildness settling in. Great fun!
I do hope to actually do this lantern a walk at the weekend, or the next. I am so mindful of all the things I did with the older two that the younger two might miss out on simply because life is twice as hectic.

So without further ado...

~*~

There is a lovely tradition we try to celebrate every year which I first came across through some Steiner/Waldorf friends. It is usually celebrated on Martinmas eve which is the 11th November, although it is a lovely thing to do once the darkness draws in and the evenings shorten, a simple symbolic way to entice the light back.

The basic premise is that the children make lanterns and then take a candle lit walk in the dark dark woods! You can either make them together as part of your evening together, or everyone can do them at home and then get together.

There are so many types of lanterns to make. What we did was very simple.

You will need:

A glass jar for each child.

A roll of thin wire eg. florists wire.

Some sheets of coloured tissue paper.

Some pva glue in a small container like an egg cup.

A small brush for each child.

A tealight for each jar.

To begin, tear the tissue paper into small pieces.

Start painting glue onto the glass jar and press pieces of the tissue paper onto it. Continue until the jar is covered.

Once the glue is dry, measure a length of wire to form a long loop, plus extra to wrap around the neck of the jar. Secure it by twisting the ends tightly around the wire where it meets the vertical lengths.

It's important to have a long loop so as to avoid little hands getting too close to the candle!

Once everyone has gathered together outside, the adults can help light the candles. Then we can set off into the dark, dark woods.

These next few photos were taken with a flash so of course it loses the candlelit atmosphere.

It was equal parts thrilling and slightly scary, even for the older children!

They really do get such a thrill out of doing something they would rarely get to otherwise.

There are simple little songs that are traditionally sung for the duration of the walk. It helps if a few people know them to start off. But any song that includes light or sun would do. The walk by the way need only be ten to fifteen minutes long. Believe me, after ten to fifteen minutes tripping through the darkness, their imaginations start to take off, and it's not long before everyone is ready to head indoors for some warming soup!

The World Is Awhirl...

2010-11-09T22:46:00.001Z

All day and all night the sea has pounded. And as a heavy swell is foretold, the wind and rain come in as though on winter's wings.
For the world is awhirl with tempest and storm, and crashing, turbulent wildness.

Somewhere along the coast two little houses lie side by side, look there, do you see? They lie snug in the hollow, in the midst of the squall, where the mothers light fires and tend to their sickly babes,
and always, always keep on eye on that swell.

Yes, this time of year, from now until spring, we are obsessed with the sea, with it's height and breadth and depth, for the threat of a swell is a menace, you see, as we, and our neighbours, can attest. The great monstrous Swell that has been known to rage and heave itself up out of it's bed, rushing at these little houses in formidable waves.
So we put sandbags in place, and we wait. Mindful of just how small we are to the power of the sea.

So here we sit by our fires, these faithful households who endure such peril, and all for the love of living in this place of unequaled, immeasureable beauty!
And we raise a glass, or maybe a cup of tea, to the sea, with respect. For we are at your mercy. And as we lie in our cosy beds, and the freezing rain blows in, wrapped in dreams of tossing ships and stranded strangers, somewhere in the depths of our sleep we do have one ear open.

Photo of me taken by Lisa.
Our houses lie about one hundred meters behind where we stand...

For we are always, always keeping an eye...

What The Sea Told Me...

2010-11-03T22:56:00.006Z

I have a view.

A most spectacular, ever-changing view. A view of marsh and mountains to the west of our little house.

And we live mere meters from the sea, there it is, just to the east of us, can you see it? But no...we cannot actually see the sea from our house. For our house lies low and there between us and the sea flies the occasional train, rumbling past like a great metal horse, heading north to the city, or away to the south.

There once were mornings, now it seems so long ago, I would take a moment to cross the tracks and have a look at the sea before my day began. Like Mole peeping his head up and sniffing the air, it was like my barometer, literally like opening my senses, yoga for the spirit, you can feel all that open sky, endless sea expand your mind.
A great way to begin the day. And the earlier the better.

But then a number of years ago those railway folks decided to put up a proper fence.

So we put up a ladder to climb over.

They took that.

So from then on when we wanted to see the sea we had to stand on a chair, or a windowsill! Or walk to the crossing, which is fine on a fine day, but sometimes too much for little legs, and you know, it's just not the same...

But! Now I would like to share something with you. Something very special. Over the summer we acquired new neighbours. Nearest and dearest neighbours of the family kind! And oh how our lives have changed. It has been nothing but wonderful! The kind of wonderful that is the slamming of far off doors, of little footsteps running through the garden, down the new, secret path to the door. Of familiar voices ringing in the distant air, and sweet faces peeping in the door.

And they have something.
They have a most marvelous attic, and they have a view. A truly spectacular, ever-changing view of the sea! And yes, I am somewhat green around the gills! So finally, after months of brow-beating I have persuaded the lovely Lisa that she has to do this...

Photo of our sea by Lisa.
Taken from her attic window.

A new blog. And she has called it 'What The Sea Told Me.'

A sister blog to my view to the west. There is now a view to the east of this little bit of paradise. So do please drop by and say hello.

Photo of our sea at sunrise by Lisa.
Taken from her attic window.

I cannot tell you how this gladdens my heart...

Lord Of The Fires.

2010-11-01T10:30:00.000Z

Thoughts following reminiscent conversations with friends.

When we were young Halloween night held a wildness to it, a lawlessness that shook the trees and sent an unruly wind snapping at our heels, a dark and sinister sky closing in like a cloak, some looming spectre just beyond the gloom.
For weeks it was building. And it was the bonfires that did it.

For in the months leading up to this most wicked of nights, in suburban Dublin every housing estate became a military-like scene of organisation and strategy, of planning and plotting.
Us against Them.
For there is only so much wood to be had in a given area.
Who would get it first?

We would start by asking parents and neighbours, knocking on doors and begging for any old bits of furniture that was no longer needed, anything wooden that could be burned was taken. Then we moved further afield, knowing the estates that had grown older, the children now moved away, or the houses that always had a yard full of junk out the back just waiting to be pilfered. And in someone's garden or yard nearby we would build our stash, accumulating a growing pile that needed guarding and protecting from poachers!

It was gang warfare. And we meant business...

I remember so many standoffs between gangs of children from neighbouring estates that the rest of the year we got on fine with, and some we didn't. We found ourselves face to face with gangs who were much more used to confrontational behaviour but we always amazed ourselves at our own newfound tenaciousness!

No one was going to take our fire!

And the satisfaction when the day came and we built our fire in the field at the end of the road. Dads passing on their expertise on bonfire building, the whole road coming out to lend a hand.

Hands down best costume last night!

And then home we went for colcannon with money hidden inside it, and brack with a ring in it, for our homemade costumes made out of old clothes and a mask, or if you were lucky like us and had a mother who sewed, something more elaborate.

Snap Apple!

And there was Snap-apple and Bobbing-for-apples to be played, and then off we went into that dark and scary night, knocking on doors with a chorus of "ANY APPLES OR NUTS?" And that is all we got!!

Bobbing for apples!

Coming home at the end of our journey we emptied our bags on the floor, sure there were one or two sweets lurking somewhere in amongst the mountain of nuts, and maybe even a 50p! And we were the lucky ones, because our mum made TOFFEE APPLES, so we were always sure of callers in their dozens, eager to hunt down whatever sugar they could.

Colcannon.

And at the end of the night we had the bonfire to look forward to, and oh! how wonderful and marvelous that was. Creatures looming out of the darkness, voices we knew but faces unrecognisable, and everyone riding on a wave of chilling thrills that pushed the energy of the night somewhere into another realm of danger, of electrifying spookiness, rousing us like no other.

To this day a most very favourite night of mine!

What did you do?

Where The Winding Road Takes Us.

2010-10-29T23:42:00.000+01:00

Before the rains came, on a sunny autumn day, a Wednesday, we took a walk in a garden by a river. A beautiful garden in a magic valley. And we found the remains of a pumpkin patch, a decimated wildness of creeping green and the last of the bees, of trees like a golden splendour, where the sadness of leaves has blown the last breath of summer away, a cold frost that nips and bites and scolds.

And as we exclaim over Judith's 'grandmother' pumpkins all puckered and gathered like weathered dames, our voices meet the wind, tussle and dance away in the air above. And we ooh and aah over the most perfect shade of grey-blue ever seen, so perfectly flattered by this, it's dandy orange neighbour!

And there inside, in the quiet lull of the wind, we can almost hear the murmur of sweet pumpkin voices as they nod to one another, this way and that, and grumble of cold and damp and frosty nights.

So the rains come, and the weekend has arrived. And the little children have counted the days, gathered their costumes, made their plans. And we have colcannon and barm brack to look forward to, with treasure hidden inside. What will you be doing?

Happy weekend to you all!

Blackberry Crimes and Dandelion Songs.

2010-10-26T18:43:00.000+01:00

I thought I would share something a little bit different with you here this evening.
I used to have another blog that I shared with a friend, a blog that fell by the wayside quite some time ago, but one that had some lovely things on it. So I have decided over the next few months to share some seasonal posts from it with you here. I hope you like them.

But first, a little about the blog:
"We are two mothers who want our children to know what childhood was like. Before Nintendos, before computers. Before fear of freedom. What it was like for us, and for our mothers, and their mothers. We want them to know adventure, to know play, to know the world. And not the controlled, organised world that modern mothers seem to think they are tied to, but the real, natural world that is here on our doorstep. Come and join us on an adventure in childhood."

This first post is one that I expect will resonate with some of you. And I would dearly love to hear similar tales of what sort of games you played as a child!

~*~

Autumn has come around again, and it's time for 'Conkers'! This is a game that has been around for generations and is very simple and satisfying to play.

First of all, unless you are lucky enough to have a horse-chestnut tree in your garden, a walk in the woodlands is essential. So on a crisp morning off we go hunting in the woods.

You'll often find the biggest and best chestnuts are the ones still in the shells.

If you do find one, standing on it is usually enough to open it and you can peel it back to uncover the shiny treasure inside.

We usually fill a bag or basket as there are lots of other things you can do with them, as we will show you later.

When you get home, the first thing to do is to bore a hole through the fresh chestnut or conker. Please make sure an adult does this bit! It needs to be a fresh one as a seasoned one would be very difficult.

Then if you have an old shoe-lace, or if not, a piece of string, about half a metre long, on a darning needle, you can thread it through. Again, best if an adult does this bit.

Tie a knot at one end and wrap about half of the string around your hand, with the conker hanging at the end.

The idea of the game is to smash as many conkers as possible. Your opponent holds out his piece of string on which he has his conker. To get a good hard hit, hold the string in your strong hand and pull it out tight, holding the conker between two fingers. Take aim, then take a shot at hitting it off your opponents conker.

You can take turns, or allow three tries each before swapping over, playing until one of them is smashed or disintegrates. If you manage to smash his with your own then your chestnut is called a conker (conqueror). Although over the years, all chestnuts have become known as conkers!

Traditionally, there were little rhymes you would say, for example, if you want to get the first hit when you see your friend with his conker you would say,

"Hick, hack,first crack!"

"Obbly, obbly, onker, my first conker!"

You would also give your winning conker a name which depended on how many other conkers it had destroyed. For example a 'Twoer', or a 'Fiver' adding them up as you beat each one. And a real winner would often be held over until the following year, when it was well seasoned and would beat all, hands down!

But best of all, conkers make the most lovely of Autumn wreaths!

A Recipe And A Little Bit Of Irish Tradition.

2010-10-23T10:32:00.000+01:00

Yes, we are back up and running!

As today is the first day of the Mid-Term Break, we are getting into the swing of Halloween. Last year was a complete non-event as we'd had a week of sickly children and an exhausted Mama, and nothing got done in preparation. So this year we have a lot to make up for!

So first I want to share this recipe with you that I first posted here two years ago. If you like fruit bread then I promise you will love this. The tea makes it incredibly moist and it is dense with juicy fruit.
(I have yet to find a way of making this gluten-free but maybe someday...)

Barm Brack, or Bara Brith in Wales, means Speckled Bread, and is basically a Tea Brack. It is a traditional fruit cake, somewhere between bread and cake, that is eaten at Halloween, and as children, we were enticed to eat it because of the money and the ring that were hidden inside it! Whoever finds the ring will be the first to marry.

You will find recipes that use yeast but bread soda would have been more traditional. This recipe uses baking powder. It also has the addition of lemon and orange zest which would not have been traditional.

As well as the ring for marriage it would also have had: (all wrapped in greaseproof paper)
a coin for wealth
a small piece of cloth for poverty
a pea for plenty
a thimble for a spinster
a button for a bachelor
a matchstick to beat your husband/wife (imagine!!!)

You can guess why most of these have fallen by the wayside...

Ingredients:

12oz mixed fruit like raisins and sultanas.

6oz fructose or 8oz sugar.

300ml hot, strong tea.

Zest of 1 lemon and 1 orange.

5oz brown flour,

4oz white flour, (I use spelt)

1 and a quarter tsp baking powder

1 medium egg.

Pour the hot tea over the fruit and sugar and leave over night in the fridge.

The next day stir in the zest.

In a large bowl mix the flours and baking powder, and then add the fruit and the soaking liquid.

Stir in the egg and mix it well.

Turn it into a lined and greased loaf tin, level the surface, and bake it for about an hour and a half at 150c.

I'm lucky I got to photograph this before it was all eaten! Hence the dodgy quality of this pic. It's best eaten thickly sliced with real butter and a big mug of tea.

Now there's one of my favourite combinations ever. Yum...!

It's also good enough to throw into a round cake tin and present it as cake. I make a thin glaze of icing sugar and enough milk to make a slightly runny icing, and if you have it, a drop of orange essence.

I'd love to hear what you think if you get a chance to try this!

A Friday of Another Sort.

2010-10-22T14:30:00.003+01:00

It's Friday. A most lovely Autumn day. The fire is lit. The house is quiet. I sit at my kitchen table, the ticking clock, the pot of tea, the purring cat. And I'm thinking I might do some baking.

But first, some blogging.

Has anyone else been having problems uploading images to blogger? I've been trying for three days now and still no joy. Just when we were back online too!
So, for the first time ever, I think, a Milkmoon post without images... It feels very strange.

I just wanted to let you all know I haven't disappeared again, and I do have something nice to share with you.
I was asked to do another guest post, this time over on Charlie and Caroline Gladstone's blog. You can read it here. They run Pedlars, my very favourite online shop (for those of us not lucky enough to live near one of their shops), as I wrote about here. Do take a wander around their shop and I promise you will find something that you will love!

They asked me to write about music. And I didn't know where to start, so I started at the beginning. And then I didn't know where to stop. So it's quite...comprehensive! And as is my usual, it has a good dose of nostalgia in it.
I hope you like it! And do say hello to them. They are a modern wonder and I do believe, a modern fairytale.

So here's to a most special Friday. We have no school for nine days, so plenty of time for lazing and hanging out together, and getting through my lengthy to-do list.

Roll on Halloween!

A Hiatus Of A Most Aggravating Kind.

2010-10-16T10:48:00.001+01:00

For more than a week we have been cut off from the world. That most useful creature we call The Internet broke it's tether and wandered off over the mountain. All week we stood gazing at the mountains, hand shading our eyes, phone to our ear as we grew increasingly exasperated with shower of blackguards who are happy to take our money every month and then fall asleep on their watch. (Picture me standing on our rooftop, swinging my lasso, hoping I make purchase this time. Every day this week...*sigh*)
But now it has returned, though I believe it has had an unhappy time, for it is sluggish and sleepy and most infuriatingly uncooperative. Oh! how my blood has been set boiling this morning!

But moving swiftly on to more pleasant things. We had a most lovely week otherwise, and it is amazing just how much got done around the house this week! Here's some pics of what we've been up to, but first, the winner of the giveaway is Rebecca S! Rebecca, email me!

Autumn Bounty!

Little friends.
Off down the lane to the sea.

Chasing waves.

Blackberries!

Autumn is here!

The quiet reverie that a weekend morning brings.

In my kitchen.

An evening of stitches of one kind or another.

Sandymount Strand.

Evening's End.

And so, normal service has resumed. If you like, take a peek here, At My Back Door for a taste of what Autumnal splendor our view brought us this week.

Have a lovely weekend!

Happy Birthday Milkmoon.

2010-10-06T07:49:00.000+01:00

Nectarines at the end of summer that wasn't. Where is the autumn?

Today we are three!

Above is my first ever blogpost on this place that has become such a part of our lives here in the Milkmoon household. Never would I have guessed where it would have taken me, or the people I would have met.

You dear readers!

And I am delighted to be sharing this happy day with a very dear blogger friend, Gigi of The Magpies Fancy, who has asked me to take part in a wonderful series of guest posts entitled 'Legacy', and my day is today, by coincidence! So at some stage today, if you tootle on over to her most gorgeous and inspiring blog you can read my musings on the subject, and while you are there do take a wander back through her posts, and I think you will agree it is a warm, inviting place to visit, like a sunny windowsill lined with books and gorgeous photos and filled with the best sort of conversation.

So, as it is a birthday here, there simply has to be a give-away! Just leave a comment here and at the end of the week, Sunday to be exact, I will draw a name out of a hat. I have been compiling a couple of folders of photos I plan to print very soon, both from Milkmoon, and from A Year At My Back Door, and the winner is welcome to choose one, any one, they like.

So a sunny, Happy Wednesday to you all, and today's music is...here.

Through The Keyhole.

2010-10-04T08:02:00.000+01:00

What the smallest scallywags get up to at a party when you are not looking.

It rained.

But the children didn't care.

Cake.

A little Sparrow on our doorstep.

We are all recovered somewhat. As always, the ten days that my man was away it was a litany of minor illnesses and disasters. Minor ones but disasters all the same. The worst of it being the Smallest and his cousin (who lives next door now) aka the scallywags, thinking it would be great fun to see how many toilet rolls would fit in the toilet. Six apparently. Yes. And an unpleasant head cold that made it's way through all of us to varying degrees.
But as I said, we survived. And had a lovely weekend with a certain someone turning seven, a birthday party in the rain, and on Sunday a family visit. I also got to see a dear friend who lives too, too far away. And a dear friend who couldn't live closer, and has this, the view of the sea from her house that we don't. I'll be spending a lot of time sitting at this next door window from now on, I think!

Sunday morning. The best things on my doorstep.
A beautiful view, a great friend, and coffee!

And so it is Monday morning, and life is back to normal. The sun is shining in a cool autumnal way, and the week spreads out before us, full of promise and potential.

Happy week-to-come! I hope you have something wonderful ahead!

The Best Thing.

2010-10-01T22:51:00.000+01:00

In Your Studio When You Were Gone.

He has returned to us, and now lies sleeping.

The weekend. A little birthday. Family. Perfect.

Happy Weekend to you Dear Readers.

We Count The Days Until You Return.

2010-09-24T12:17:00.001+01:00

Thoughts on how I am suspended by the temporary absence of my man.
(Photos from my archives)

Now we are on the side of winter. The midpoint has been passed.

In the mornings I rise before light, the wind moaning through the house like an unhappy ghost in the silence. That silence that sinks to unknown depths just before dawn. In the distance the sea booms, I feel it under my feet as though in the night we have broken our moorings and slipped away into dark waters. I imagine the walls trembling with the weight of white water breaking on their steadfast sides. Our children sleep their deep slumber, dreaming of ships and narwhals, unfathomable dreams of briny blue.

All to soon, tentatively, the light creeps in, tapping at the window.
My mind returns to the day.

And all day the reeds tussle and toss in the bluster, the mountains loom out of the clouds, then fade into mists again, lost in the rains as the night draws in.

And the days whirl by.

The days whirl by.

The days whirl by...

What To Do When The Birds Take My Words?

2010-09-21T21:32:00.001+01:00

Do you have weeks like this?

I think I must be tired, but I have spent the last week sporadically looking at my computer screen and wondering will I ever have anything to say again! And my camera is like a good friend who, through no fault of their own, I suddenly find annoying and don't want to see.
The evenings pull in around us like a cosy cloak, hugging close, murmuring in our ears sweet words like 'laze', and 'fire', and 'comfort', while at the same time the prospect of such things tripping our way, just around the bend, is enough to cause a flurry of clearing, cleaning and organising...while all I want to do is, yes, laze.

When I lay in the grass today...

I'll be right back...

The Sweetest Balm For A Broken Heart.

2010-09-13T21:06:00.000+01:00

Meet Sparrow, the loveliest of tiny things that has brought the sparkle back to My Only Girl. You may remember our most heart-rending little tragedy, still regretted today and every day.

She was worried about how she would feel, afraid she would be trying to replace Oz so soon, (she was adamant about no more black cats~that would just be too heartbreaking) but this only girl of ours needs something small and helpless to love. We all need some unconditional love in our lives, and as I know many of you know full well, the love of a pet is wholehearted, unreserved, and unlimited, and a perfect, pure balm to the tribulations of life.

Somethings just go together, and need no explanation, and a girl and her cat are one.

What Is Hidden In The Garden.

2010-09-11T23:15:00.000+01:00

This years Sculpture In Context exhibition is taking place at the moment in the National Botanic Gardens in Glasnevin, Dublin. This wonderful annual show is in the most lovely of settings. There is something reassuring about botanical gardens, don't you think? The sense of order and symmetry, peacefulness and even discipline appeal to my inner control freak! And it's not just the neatness of the gardens, but that satisfaction of nature and plants knowing just what they need to do, and everything being efficient and logical. Ah yes...

And so it is a delightful wonder to wander and discover unexpected hidden gems of creative explosions, some of which have no bearing or relevence to their environment, and some of which are like marvelous imaginings of the garden gods who have taken a moment of madness and thrown caution to the wind.

Vertical Garden
by Deirdre Judge.

I am particularly thrilled to bring your attention to the above glass piece that was made by none other than my mother, Deirdre Judge! A delightful representation of my parents abundant, bounteous garden that is bursting with life (and flavour!) and here rendered as a gorgeous wall hanging.

Specimen 3
by Michelle Brady.

Redwood Spore Drip
by Andrea Cleary.

A Match Made In Heaven
by Joanne Murray.

The above piece by Joanne Murray thrilled me beyond words, seeing immediately the Julie Arkell influence which is a guaranteed lasso around my heart. Gorgeous work, and I do hope to track her down at some point and feature her in a long overdue Something Lovely post.

If any of you are in the vicinity over the next few weeks, do take an afternoon to wander these most lovely gardens. We didn't even see half of the exhibits, I am sure and feel the need for a return trip while these mild days the summer forgot to take linger on...

A Little Milkmoon-ing Of Another Kind.

2010-09-06T22:28:00.000+01:00

One day not so very long ago, on a bright sunshiney day I gathered my best-loved everyday things, put them in my doughty, dependable bag and ran out, (leaving the door wide open for hedgehogs and lizards and herons to come calling) of this little blog-place I call Milkmoon, hair all asunder, cardigan-in-case-of-clouds all askew, and I think I may have lost a shoe. Or two. And in the last days of this most lovely of summers I lost my way too, followed too many white rabbits to too many beaches, took trains and boats and marvelous travelling contraptions to places I'd never seen (and some I had before).

We lost days and days and days I am sure. For it is the only explanation I can find for how we have ended up in the rainy windswept grey autumn place we are now. But I thought I would not spoil this lovely sunny memory with that just yet, so will keep those pictures tucked away in a brown paper envelope under my book pile for another day or so.

But I have returned. And look! A small flurry of leaves have crept in the door, a tiny mouse sits on the windowsill, and oh my, a film of dust on everything.

So I promise to set to work, to roll up my sleeves and polish and scrub and scour, and set to rights all that has slipped into this sorry, neglected little pile of Milkmoon-ness. And I will practice my extraordinary powers of ignoring the obvious, (in this case the fact that School has started again), and I will instead turn my attention to my trustworthy little car-companion: my Little Red Tin.

So here's to busy autumn fingers, and I hope yours is being productive too. And now, back to some proper blogging for this tardy lady. I promise.

A Week Of Pictures.

2010-08-21T20:50:00.000+01:00

An incredible week, weather-wise, with Autumn creeping in in tiny unseen increments that somehow we still perceive. Somehow. Is it in our bones? Our nose? Our skin?

Somehow, we know. Although we still awake some mornings to hot summery days that bathe us in sunlight, we still pause and take note of the gathering birds that flock and swoop and dive in the air above us, and the sudden cloudbursts that come literally out of the blue.

And then, the grey days that drown in unrelenting rain, falling down the hills with nowhere else to go, reminding us that yes, Autumn is on it's way.

But Summer she is tenacious.

The Lonely Beast.

2010-08-15T08:25:00.000+01:00

First of all, thank you all so much for your sweet, thoughtful words after my last sad post. My Only Girl is feeling a good bit better now and reading everyones lovely comments and in particular those that shared similar, sympathetic stories helped her a lot.
So today I thought I would share some happier news with you all. My brother Chris, who I have featured here regularly, has recently shared the exciting and wonderful news that his gorgeous children's book is to be published!

You can read about how this came about over on his blog here: Chris Judge Illustration. And while it won't be out until early next year, you can pre-order it on Amazon here, and WH Smith here.

We are so proud of you, Chris!

Can't wait!

The Cat And His Girl.

2010-08-11T10:49:00.000+01:00

How do you console an inconsolable child when her most beloved cat dies?

Our lovely Oz was killed on Monday and My Only Girl is bereft. We all are really. He was the most cuddly , affectionate ridiculous cat who loved being the centre of attention and was happiest in someone's arms.

Ozymandias.

I will miss his little face looming out of the darkness at the window, tripping over him as he lies in the middle of the kitchen floor belly up waiting for you to stop and rub his tummy, that cheeky look on his face that he knows you won't resist. His little tapping footsteps on my bedroom floor in the morning and the gentle weight of him landing on us with a quiet 'hey! C'mon! I'm hungry!'

But most of all, what breaks my heart is how much she misses him.

Her little friend.

Between The Mountains And The Sea.

2010-08-04T22:04:00.000+01:00

Thoughts on a visit to my brother in the north-west, near our ancestral home.

We crossed the island, this island of ours, left our mountains and our sea. Crossed the island to this best-loved mountain and a sea of another, wilder kind.

In The Gamesmaster's House we dwelt for a time, retrieving those familial bonds,
the ones we sometimes lose sight of.

And we measured out our time, aware of the limit of the falling sands that all too soon would be gone and we would wend our way home once more.

I felt the wildness that stirs under the edge of this land, it burrowed under my skin. The deep echo under the mountains that holds some part of me from before I was born.

The need to bring my children here, it guides my hand as I show them they are here too.

Do you know your place? You feel it like a heartbeat under your hand.

Look. Press your palm there. Do you feel it?

Scenes From The Moth House.

2010-07-31T20:31:00.001+01:00

We are away in the north-west again, so this is a short post to let you see something I've been up to over the last little while.

It's a little place of photos and words. Of little vignettes and quiet corners from a place in my head, a place I call The Moth House. Of significant, and also small, happenings there, the wanderings and musings and sad reveries of its occupants, The Lovers.

You can visit it here: The Moth House.

I hope you like it!