Breathing Space.

So we have slipped past the longest night,

the storms that blew for days have abated, and we find ourselves out tramping the sodden mulchy pathways that criss cross the significant hills of our days. We have gathered together our families, eaten our fill, making merry til the long dark hours are forgotten, pushed aside by the rush of words we swap and share and weave together, for there are months of catching up to be done with those dear to us.

And here we find ourselves again, in the quiet time between the years, the lying low, the resting, mustering ourselves for the New Year to come. 

I find myself reflecting on this past, most eventful year, and looking forward down the path ahead to the exciting one to come. 

For the second year in a row I find myself standing looking into a great big Unknown - and last year did not disappoint. We didn't even know where we would be living by Christmas, this time last year, and now we are here we are amazed, for it is as though we have always been here. 

This year I was ~ packing up ~ losing India ~ leaving the marsh ~ moving house ~ attending weddings  ~  in Cork ~ at Inis Beg Estate ~ meeting friends ~ in Sligo ~ discovering Bray ~ climbing that hill ~ flying to Virginia ~ delving into caves ~ flying home~ swimming in the sea : Sandycove, White Rock, Killiney, Bray, Greystones, Kilcoole, Silver Strand, Magheramore, Morriscastle Strand, Clogga Bay, Baginbun, Carnivan, Coral Beach Carraroe, Mullaghmore, Bundoran, ~ at Lough Key Forest Park ~ doing yoga ~ starting work ~ seeing our co-op shoot towards the sky ~ organising pop-ups ~ taking photos ~ making drawings ~ stitching ~ walking ~ cycling ~ reading ~ feeling very grateful and heart-full and excited about the coming year. 

I want to say thank you, to all you folks who have stuck by Milkmoon, despite this most sparse years of all. There is still more to be told here, and I am not done yet. So here's to 2014, and all that it brings.

So, Happy New Year to you all,

may 2014 bring you Enough.

Sending love to you wherever in the world you may be.

~Ciara~

xx

What I've Been Up To Lately.

Sometimes Life amazes me.

Picks me up by my tail and whirls me around a bit, then deposits me somewhere unexpected and never-seen-before, and so, a bit ruffled, and maybe even somewhat bedraggled, I pick myself up and dust myself off, check for injuries, and then Proceed With Caution. It doesn't happen very often in life that there is a significant change, I mean, a really, really big one. Usually it's the slow meander along the winding little pathways, with occasional wanderings off into dead ends and loop-the-loops which bring you right back to where you started. And there are lovely woodlands along the way, with leafy green and yellow light dancing up there above you, and sometimes there are banks of the sweetest flowers nodding their heads in the balmy breeze, and sometimes there are puddles of muddy water you have to wade through in your favourite shoes, or stones that trip you up or find their way into your shoe and hurt your feet. But sometimes it turns out that the little beaten track you are on suddenly opens up into Wonder, a great grassy plain with a smooth road and the sea sparkling in the distance, and suddenly everything feels Right, and Good, and you find yourself skipping along, kicking up your heels and skirts, and warmth blooms in your heart.

Sometimes Life amazes me.

And I find myself doing something I could never have dreamt of, only a few months ago. And the phrase, In My Element, suddenly has meaning. 

A few months before we moved to this town we began meeting weekly with a bunch of rather splendid folks who had a rather splendid idea about what this town needs, and so, we have spent almost a year now, talking talking talking about just what that might be, and slowly something began to take shape, and then it began to grow, and to our collective amazement we are now in the midst of Something Splendid that is now fluttering out there, above our heads, stretching it's gossamer wings and testing the air. 

We have no idea where it will take us, or what it will bring, but it is exciting and inspiring, and speaking in a voice that, it turns out, many people can, and want to, hear.

We are part of a growing community co-operative that is still finding that voice, but that is strong and clear and determined. We started out as a wholefood buying club, and then we put on an event, a vegetarian feast with music and dancing and singing, and we started to tell people about what we were doing, and all around us these little lights began to go on, in people's eyes and hearts, as they listened to what we were saying, and they began to add their voices too, and now we find ourselves here, with a gathering crowd of good intentioned, hopeful folks who know that this is the way forward. Sharing our resources, our skills, our experience, sharing those tender seedling ideas that we carry around in our hearts, sometimes for years, not knowing what to do to help it grow, because some things need more than one person to develop and grow into that wondrous something that has untold potential. But then, when we gather together, and begin to talk, magic happens, things do begin to grow, and faster than you could have imagined. And we all realise that it is possible to do things differently than we are told. It is possible to do business another way, that things don't always have to involve money, or multinational companies, or foreign businesses, that we have everything we need right here on our doorstep. We have the community we need, right here in our town. And you know what? So do you!

The most exciting thing we have discovered is that as soon as you begin to speak, to ask for what you need, you find it's right there, down the street from you, in your community, and it has been all along. There is a network of amazing people all around you who want the same things for themselves and their families that you do, and all you need is a place to come together to talk. A Common Ground to talk about the common ground you share, the back to basics, real, stuff, like how to feed your family, how to provide a real and rich experience for your children of what the world really is, and how people really do want to help one another, because it benefits us all, in the end. And in doing so, we discover how to pare away the unnecessary, stifling, consumer mentality we are all infected with, and to get real again, connect with people in a heartfelt way that brings untold riches of the kind we haven't felt since childhood. 

Last Saturday evening we hosted another event, this time a pop-up restaurant, a seated, four course, vegetarian meal for 30 folks, in a studio in what was once a factory that made the rather famous Beverley Bags in the 50's and 60's, and I found myself In My Element. Seeing all these people, many of them strangers to one another, gathered together and talking talking talking, connecting, sharing food and drink and laughter, stories and ideas and intentions, well, I thought my heart would burst with happiness.

It's all true, you know, what we know in our hearts; that we all want the same thing in the end. A safe place, with love and support, a community that lifts us all up, collectively nurturing and sustaining us, and that carries us forward into a hopeful future where we are doing things the way we want to.

Together.

–*–

Local friends, and anyone interested, you can find us,

Common Ground, Bray, on Facebook, here. 

And online on our website here. 

Finding Our Feet.

We are settling in.

Some of us not quite settled yet. A whole new world to get used to.

Getting to know the light in this new place.

I love it very much.

Follow it from room to room.

Loving the hill behind our house.
Our new playground.

Loving this new urban life that allows us to not have to give up the sea.
Loving so many friends on our doorstep.
Loving walking everywhere!

Loving that spring is rushing towards summer.
Happiness runs.

What Happens When You Forget To Breathe.

You know sometimes how magic happens right there where you are? When the world takes you gently by the chin and tilts your head at just the right moment, and you find yourself suspended in something of such heart-stopping beauty that you are transported somewhere else, for just those few seconds.
And always just when you need it.

There we were, on our daily commute through this most beautiful valley, that has held on to autumn for weeks now, the colours singing from the trees, 'the rainbow trees' as The Smallest calls them. The morning had been a bit fraught already, with just too many things to fit in, and tempers frayed from early on, and the sense of rushing just permeating everything. This part of our journey always provides a little bit of solace in our daily run anyway, but this time there was something else.

Inexplicably, at this point on the road, for two minutes, the traffic all but stopped, slowed to a crawl, and out of nowhere suddenly the air was filled with golden leaves that danced over the cars, that stayed in the air, dancing like snowflakes as the sun hit the mountain, and we stared in awe, our hearts filled, overflowing.

The Wildness of Things.

I began this post a week or so back, a post about the arrival of autumn, of the sudden profusion of posts online about leaves and rain and weather of all sorts, of lighting fires and digging out ones winter woolies, and the pleasure of it all. But now, in the midst of Sandy, that part of what I wanted to say all seems so irrelevant. Of course we have not been affected by it here, but I am put in mind of the times we do experience the Wildness of Things, and how it shakes us to our bones, reduces us to the tiny things we are in the grander scale of bigger things, and just how vulnerable we truly are when nature rages and heaves itself up out of its bed, and towers over us so terrifyingly.
Here in this little temperate island of ours, storms on the scale of what the US is experiencing right now are extremely rare, but living practically on the beach, and with our house at sea level, it is something I think about on a regular basis during winter months, when we lie awake in bed, our little house rocked by howling winds as the sea booms and thunders outside the windows.

As I sat up stitching, into the small hours last night, I was thinking about my sister in Virginia, and all those people out there who are being affected by the storm.
Times like this, things have a way of slipping neatly into perspective, don't they?
At the moment Jay is away again, this time he is down under in Sydney, and as per usual there has been the usual litany of minor 'disasters'.
Car trouble, check, internet gone, check, people sick, check, cold snap and no fuel brought in, check.
But as I said, everything is in perspective, and my inner Pollyanna is well and healthy.
And so, in the midst of all this stress and mayhem I sit and stitch, and count my blessings as I do, forever grateful for this moderate, nonextreme country I have found myself in.

And here is what I have been working on while Holding The Fort (I do like that expression!)
Inspired by the looming winter months filled with nights I have just described, this little piece has, as usual, taken forever to finish.
I have this notion that if I ever actually take to making things on my machine then I'll get loads done, but that is not likely to happen any time soon, and anyway, is likely to be a complete fallacy. I hand make my small things because usually, my studio is my car, or my kitchen table, in between a myriad of other appointments and tasks throughout my day. They are made, literally a stitch at a time, and at times it feels like a meditation, at others like a muse, with ideas flowing through my head as I work, stories unfolding in a dreamlike manner, hints and voices and realisations, all tumble together into a tangled weave of something with potential.

So I stitch and sew in the dark hours, and I send heartfelt thoughts and wishes to all and any of you who have been affected by the weather these last few days.
May whatever help you need come your way on swiftly wings, and with it the return of things to As They Should Be.

What I Love About The Summer Holidays.

Although the weather has not been good, the days are whizzing by. Days of a little sunshine and a lot of rain, in spite of which we have been making the most of no school and long hours of daylight that stretch away from us towards beaches and woodland and picnics-whatever-the-weather. We are good at that, ignoring the weather. We can't change it so why complain? But I can tell you, it is the unremitting topic of conversation, no matter where you go. In fact, I cannot imagine what this country would come to if we couldn't talk about the weather! A standstill, is what!
Nevertheless, regardless of our unexceptional summer, in terms of sunshine, I do love this time of year in this temperate isle of ours.

I love when the evenings linger, generous with a light that seems reluctant to be gone from the sky, unobtrusively just...not leaving. It is as though the very air we inhabit has swelled, to fill more hours, pushing the limits of what we can call Day, just so we can really make the most of this mildest of seasons. And we have been doing just that.
Whatever the weather, the sea is the place to be this time of year, and even the drizzly days that call for rock pooling with wonderful friends instead of lounging on the sand, they still couldn't resist getting in for a swim, as the first picture above attests.

I love the extra hours that are ours, morning, noon and night, to do as we please. To spend time with friends we don't see enough of during school time, to be spontaneous and drop everything and run out the door when the phone rings to reveal an Idea Of Exceptional Splendidness at the other end of the line. And best of all, BedTime is on holiday too, and so, not always to be found when expected.
The word Relax becomes meaningful.

I love it when the teenagers stay out late into the dark, walking down the beach or to the village shops with their friends, coming home in high spirits to chat loudly in the next room. They have discovered LP's, the sound of vinyl and the riches it holds, discovered our collection of records, and I lie in the dark listening to the murmur of their giddy voices, the thrumming of the bass through the wall, as though splinched somewhere between a time warp. I secretly love that they are, without knowing it, engaging in a Most Important Musical History Lesson. Some day they'll realise it!

I love that we live by the sea, so grateful for moments like this. Is there anything more splendid than this? 'That golden moment' my Dad said, when he saw the above photo. Hours upon hours, just jumping into that cold water. If that doesn't awaken your spirit, I don't know what does. What a way to spend a summers day!

And at night, I love when the bedroom window is open and a cool breeze passes through. For on it comes dustly winged moths and drunken daddy-long-legs, and I lie as though in a summer woodland meadow, wings brushing past, telling tales of the chirruping reeds and marsh and meadow in the dark beyond my windowpane.

I find myself, as I so often do this time of year, travelling through these high speed days in slow motion. Do you remember that feeling as a child when things felt ginormous and teeny tiny at the same time, smooth and prickly, fat and thin, at the exact same moment? (Or was that just me?!) Well, I often find myself in similar intensely felt moments now, where I am in slow motion while all around me is at high speed. It's very beautiful, and allows me fleeting seconds of clarity, to really absorb and feel purest gratitude for where I have found myself on this journey of mine.

I hope you are enjoying your summer, and the weather is to your liking! Do you have any plans? Ideas Of Exceptional Splendidness?
We do. For more days like this.
Most certainly.

What I Was Grateful For Today.

5am kitty paw patting my face,

the silence as I walk through the house, 

outside the garden rings with birdsong,

peacock, pheasant, finch,

this evening,

sun salutations in the heat,

the window open to no effect,

we toil and persist and sweat,

crows in the hot, still air outside have 'India' in their cries,

and in the silence of shavasana at the end,

I give thanks for the normal, familiar day that came between,

 ~*~

A Mixed Bag.

Oh, what a time we have had lately. Thank heavens for school holidays! Honestly, I could write that last sentence here and just leave it at that. 

This blog post was started during the school holidays over Easter but obviously I got sidetracked! We've had a carnival of weather fronts around here, and although it has now settled somewhat, into typical late Spring weather, I thought I would share some of it with you.

A few weeks back we awoke to this, my favourite kind of day, the kind of day when the veils between the worlds melt away and we find ourselves in some Otherworld, where even sound becomes different, and our footsteps echo strangely, the quiet breath of imagined Other~lings cool against our cheek.

These kind of days take my feet on a wander, down to the sea shore, and away into the hills, where People seem to have retreated away from this world and do not walk the streets, but stay quietly indoors away from the damp, the strange stillness, awaiting the return of the sun.

But not me. No, my feet wander, my heart filled with the monochrome silence, happy to be Lost for a while...

And then, one morning soon after, we awaken to find that Spring has arrived, the bluebells nod outside the window, the air stirs a little warmer and the children shed their winter skins, coats discarded in the garden, shoes and socks kicked off, oh joy! at cool, dry grass between their toes!

And the days warmed so considerably that the sea began it's siren call, drawing us to it's shores, promising summer days to come, filled with sandcastles and picnics and lazy days with nowhere else to be.

And even though the days turned wild and stormy again, still the pounding sea could not quell that growing Summer-ing that has taken hold of us all, now that the evenings stretch out their arms, lingering just that little bit longer each day, shyly hoping we won't mind.

And we did retreat indoors for a while, the halls murmuring with little voices, important business of the day beginning early for some, and for a while the focus was on Home, and Time Spent Together.

But as I said, the Carnival continued, and the sun simply could not stay away.

It's times like these, when little boys are being Little Boys, taking life by the horns with gusto, and revelling in the light and the few extra degrees in the air they storm through, building tents and making go-carts, and doing it all themselves when the grown-ups are too busy to help, it's times like these I catch in my heart, hold tenderly and with complete focus, for I know oh too well they melt away all too soon, drift away into teenagedom and a bigger world.

And although it's behind us now, here's a picture of this year's Easter tree.

We had a lovely break, with family time in abundance and not much else, other than good food and attention to detail.

But tonight, with a storm warning in effect, we baton down the hatches, and await the next dip in this roller coaster that is Springtime Weather, dolefully eye our sagging, leaky sand bags, and hoping the sea stays where it's supposed to, over the next few days!

I hope you are all warm and dry, wherever you are!

I Want To Stop The World From Spinning....

...from carrying me away,

from the tumble of waves that will not hold me,

that shake and toss and throw me.

I want to take hold of things again,

my grip sure and strong,

a steadfast hold on things that matter,

and bring me into calm....

Last week, for a few days out there, it was as though someone opened up the sky, a sudden explosion of fine moisture that seemed to hang, all day, suspended in the air, catching the sun where it hid on the other side of this gossamer veil.

Every day I drive my familiar route, eyes longingly on the trees, and everything is shades of greys and browns, the trees silent in a rain that blends into milkiness. Gentle, pale, nacreous. A bloom of white on everything. And it is as though my mind expands out to merge with the damp diaphanous air, and in my minds eye I no longer see my car, it melts into moisture, drifts away into the misty rain, and I am flying, leaving the road, into and up over the trees, oh!

The cold air on my face is a welcome slap, as though a trusted friend shaking me out of my stupor, and I am here again, in the world, I lift my head and look around me, suspended now.

Here.

And then I see it. This place, this road that I travel every single day, that has become a chore, a blind drudgery, is revealed to me again.

And so, one day becomes the next, and the next, and then the first day of February dawns with a crisp, coldness of azure blue, a bright, perfect day, on this same road all becomes revealed in rust and browns and frosted sage. The blue sky is not a hard, bright blue, rather an opalescent wash, jet trails bleeding gently into it.

There, look, a sloping field, crisscrossed with hedges, and the occasional tree, everything smokey silver and brown in it's winter palette, the heavy frost giving the grass a milky sheen.

I know now, the lie of the land, each line and curve and slope and drop, hills and mountain crisscrossing one another, the long descent to the open sea, this road that snakes through, all of it, has become like a path in my brain, a mirror of my spirit skin. One that is part of me now.

In all that I am in an endless blur of Doing, these days, I see now, my constants are good things. Things that nourish, there, like a backbone, a perfect skeleton to lay my days on.

And I am grateful for this.

After The Long Hiatus, Unplanned, A Recap.

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.