Just Before You Go, Summer.....

Well, these last few mornings there is a definite autumny shiver in the early air, the top of Bray Head has a wooly cap of damp clouds just sitting on it, and the milky sunlight filters through the apple boughs that are literally bowing under their swag. School is looming, literally imminently, and we are getting ready to embrace our first autumn in a house with heating in it! Suddenly, my love for this season has grown tenfold.
Fittingly, a whole new chapter is beginning for me, in so many ways I couldn't list them here, their microscopicness adding up to a Significantness that thrills me and excites me and has me revving to go.

But first, as a Last Blast before that school business is upon us, and to celebrate the return of my man, we took ourselves off on a little adventure, back across this island of ours again, this time out into the west of Ireland. Poor Jay missed all our traipsing and trekking, all our adventuring on beaches and down boreens, and all the fine, unexpected weather we had, so we just had to squeeze something in. And if this mild weather continues into the autumn, we will just do the same, we will take it and run with it for as long as we can.

We rolled along the winding roads, under those white skies that shower occasional fine rain, that sit high and hard above us, not gloomy, but with a bright glare that turns the landscape into a glowing, magical vista. Everything about it so familiar to myself and Jay, though it's been two decades since we were here, and I found my heart filled with fondness, with tender memories of those young things we were when last we walked the streets of Galway city. Oh how we have changed!

And of course, there had to be a beach, and an extra special one this time, a glowing wonder of a coral beach, the likes of which I'd never seen. The water appeared tropical in it's hues, set as it is against the glow of the coral sand, but I can vouch that it is by no means tropical! It was cold! But in we got, regardless, and it was delicious.

We took a winding road back, the scenic route, stopping whenever we fancied. Meandering, I think is the word, and I savoured the pleasure of unhurried meandering, for I know it is coming to an end now, for another year.

But in the midst of my lament for the end of summer, I admit, I have never felt so ready to get back into the swing and routine of school, of all that autumn brings.
In spite of missing Jay, or perhaps because of it, along with the good weather, we have had The Best Summer Ever. We had to, or it would have been unbearably lonely without him. I have never been more grateful for the brilliant timing of a Random Act of Nature, for this out of the blue amazing summer we had, for it allowed us an excuse to make the most of it, and get out there and enjoy it.

And so, back home now, it's the first day of school, for some, and as I sit with my steaming cup, looking out my window at the slightly worn and fading green that looks partied out and hung over,  the early morning sun is now creeping over the top of the headland, and I hear the first stirrings upstairs, the creak of floorboards above my head, the murmur of sleepy voices. 

And so it begins.

Holding Fast.

I'm afraid I'd have nothing more to show you here but more beaches, for there have been many more since last I wrote.
There has also been occasional rainy days, though there is a faint whisper of autumn in the morning now, and the apple tree in the garden is laden with red, ripening fruit, and we are beginning to tingle with that sense of urgency now, to cram in as much Summer as we can before the leaves begin to turn.
Yet again, Jay has been away for six weeks now, has missed this marvelous summer we have had, all the way across the other side of the world, in Australia. We have kept ourselves busy, true, but it's not the same without him.

Portrait Of My Sleeping Husband.
(I did this of Jay just before he left)

We are counting the days until we see him, and then there will be yet more cramming while we ignore the calendar that goes on counting down without us, to the return of School. That we will ignore, yes, until the last possible day, and take ourselves off again, over the mountains to visit some dear friends, and then on until we reach the other side of this island.

We will not think of that other S word until the bell rings and we really have to.

In the next day or so, I will have something new to share. And maybe some of those beaches.

Summer - And Nothing More....

Oh hello, there you are, or rather, here we are, in the midst of Summer! Do you see that capital S there at the beginning of the word Summer? Well, I have to tell you, this year it has to have a capital S, because that is what we are having, a proper, capital, long-awaited, hot, hot summer. And it just keeps going on and on and on, and we are not complaining, not one bit!

So, the floors have a permanent dusting of sand, the chores are done to a minimum, for as happens most other years, no matter what the weather, we have simply dropped everything and just taken ourselves off to one beach or another, and let me tell you there have been quite a few, with more to come.

Ahh, the joys of living on an island! I estimate we will have been to no fewer than ten different beaches by summer's end, with definite potential for others I haven't accounted for yet. With such a variety of beaches so close to home (and some further afield) it is impossible to not take advantage of it. Some are perfect for swimming, some for body boarding, some for rock pooling, and some for building epic sandcastles!
I am so very grateful to still have children young enough to have an excuse for spending countless hours, days, just Being At The Beach.

And for the days when other things take us elsewhere, the best part is, we can walk out the door in the evening, before or after dinner, and stroll down to the seafront for a dip, pausing to chat with friends or neighbours we meet along the way, maybe stopping for an icecream, or occasional bag of salty chips, watching the fairground rides against the dimming sky as we wander back up the hill to home.

Seventeen Days In Virginia.

 An Appalachian visit to my sister, her daughter, and their red dog.

Some days we drove,
my mother and sister and I,
skirting the Blue Ridges,
layers of smokey blue that rode away into the horizon like a tide.
Through rolling hills of green that fold back and forth onto themselves
as far as my eye could see.

Miles and miles of trees that thronged with birds,
red birds, blue birds, yellow, brown.
Birds as unfamiliar to me as the very air here.
And overhead, birds of prey wheel and cry like falling stars from some ancient tale we never knew.

On the way, we sang songs to our small travelling companion,
our little stalwart passenger whose bright presence was our totem, our lucky charm.

We delved into caves,
great endless milky caverns where we stood enthralled
listened to the rocks as they sang to us
a deep melancholy song,
a song we could not decipher,
a story as old as the earth itself.

And I could not help but dwell in my mind,
ponder, on what these lands were like
when smoke rose in the distance,
when the earth ran with blood
and your sons marched away over the mountains,
those boys of yours, tenderhearted, naive, awash with bravado and terror.
Marched away and did not come home.

Everything I saw was new, yet so familiar, like a memory, or a deep knowledge I had forgotten, that now stirs with something like hope.
The unfamiliar birdsong, 
the clamouring, legendary brood II cicadas, heard with disbelief in the place Jefferson heard them, 
fireflies in my bedroom, 
the scent of skunk that greets us on the doorstep in the morning, 
the kindness of strangers,
but most of all, those mountains.
I will hold on to those.

It is morning now, and today I will be returning to my home,
back to my dearlings and my sea, my heart sore and yearning for them now.
Though how I will say goodbye to my sister, and to this other tiny dearling who has a hold on my heart,
and to the red dog, I do not know. for they are leaving this place too,
beginning a new part of their story when they join her husband in Mexico.  

And it's true also, I find myself heartbroken to be leaving these mountains,
these blue endless, mysterious mountains that are not mine, yet somehow have a hold on me,
have burrowed under my skin a desire to come back.

And I thought my heart was already full.

This Moment....

Inspired by SouleMama.

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.

Let Us Talk About The Sea.

What is it that happens to you, when the cold saltwater hits your skin?

When your breath catches high up, and every nerve ending tells you to stop! 

What is it that happens when you literally take the plunge, and envelope yourself in the briny, endless silence of water, suspended, nothing below your feet to hold you up, and there you float.

No matter how far you stray from the edge of the land, from the places where the sea begins, no matter how many years without it, or how many babies keep your feet on dry land,

you cannot ever take the salt out of your skin.

You will dream about it, run there in your sleep, 

until it finds you again. 

Moth Season.

There is a small window in my kitchen that stays open all summer long, unless the wind is chilly and from the wrong direction. It opens, just where I stand to make my morning tea, onto a wild and barely contained rugosa rose bush, that conceals all of the garden view, except a patch of sky. On rainy days the dripping green outside this window is like a doorway to an emerald kingdom where tiny creatures scurry and creep and scuttle. The scent of roses is subtle, but so intoxicating it transports me without effort, holds me in a green dream, even fleetingly, as I make tea, or prepare meals, like a small anchor in this sea of moments.

This morning is the first morning in a while that I am up significantly early to noticed the touch of autumn in the air that drifts in as the sun rises, and I am reminded of the swift approach of the end of the holidays, of school, ahead. Once again, each morning the walls of the house are lined with dustly moths, and in the evenings, the spiders line up along the windows like sentries. We are entering the cooling season, my favourite time of year, and the reeds in the marsh are almost at their fullest, the sound of now a late summer hush, as opposed to their winter rattle.

We have had a particularly wonderful summer. There has been lots of camping, lots of gatherings of friends, where we cram as many of us as possible into houses and tents, around kitchen tables, under gazebos, and make it last as long as we can, squeezing as much fun and games and food and laughter into our time together as we can. There has been a lot of rain, but lots of sunny days too, and we are excellent at seizing those and running out the door, so there have been lots of impromptu beach days too, the kind where we go up a hill and end up down on a beach, and then we cannot leave. The beach bag has a permanent spot in my car, just in case. And we are not done yet.
The result is a dusty house with the words Bare Minimum stamped in all the corners, on every pile of laundry and papers, a neglected blog, a car full of sand, but sun kissed, happy faces round the dinner table in the evenings.

We have also had a family wedding. A heartwarming, momentous wedding that was most definitely the highlight for us all.

So now we face The Winding Down, and I am eyeing those other to-do lists that involve the word 'school' in them, knowing I have put everything off until the last minute, knowing that this autumn brings significant changes to our little household, for me in particular, for, among other things, I must get a job. A proper, paid job. Something which every mother who stays home with her babies must do when the day comes, something which I have put off for a year and cannot justify any longer, and the artist in me balks at as I dream about the Making/Writing Hours to myself that I am giving up. But it is also something which I am excited about, albeit completely bemused by.
We shall see how that goes.

I am working on some other significant changes here at Milkmoon, too. Something which just seems like the right thing to do. I have come to realise that my dwindling commitment to this blog is nothing more than the fact that it hasn't evolved to reflect how things are changing for me personally, that I became little stuck, in terms of what I blog.
It's all good, and I do hope you think so too! It's something I am very excited about and look forward to  launching the all-new-and-improved Milkmoon in the next month.

Well, it's turning into a blustery day, but the sun is out, and so we are taking ourselves off out again.
That to-do list, and that pile of laundry, (okay, mountain of laundry), and all those dust bunnies, they'll have to wait another day.

The 31 Day Drawing Challenge.

You know how, at the beginning of something like summer holidays, time seems to stretch out before you, endless hours just waiting to be filled? And then a curious thing happens, doesn't it. Time becomes a slippery ghost that seems to melt away into the day, without you even realising it. And suddenly the weeks are slipping away and you cannot grasp them. 

One of the four seasons.

I do try to spend this time doing things that the normal car-bound, school days don't allow, things like seeing friends who are further afield, or catching up on my personal to-do list that always, inevitably, ends up at the bottom of the pile.

Book cover for a favourite book.

One such thing on my list was, by coincidence, nicely facilitated by something my brother Andrew posted about on Facebook: a 31 Day Drawing Challenge, for the month of July. A list of titles/topics, one for every day of the month. Regular readers here will have noticed that I have recently been drawing, something which I have not done in any serious way for years and years, other than with the children. The reason for my renewed interest in this is something for a whole other post, which will follow in a couple of weeks, but suffice to say, the opportunity to commit myself to doing a drawing a day was nicely timed! I was feeling very rusty! And thanks to Donal Fallon of  Galway Pub Scrawl, I am not only enjoying drawing again, but day by day my appreciation of what it means to draw and illustrate, is changing and growing. 

A favourite fairytale.

I joined quite late into the challenge, and I have not managed to do every day since then, but I am really quite pleased to have managed what I have so far. As you can see, some days I had more time than others!

Do click the link above to see the rest of the work by everyone who is taking part. The variety of styles alone is amazing.

Favourite mythical creature.

So, it's the weekend now, and myself and the children are off for a long weekend, heading south the the tip of this island of ours, south to the lighthouse, the wilder, warmer sea. I may be naive to think that I'll have lots of drawing time (Three or four mothers, and at least twelve children? Hmm) but that is what I am aiming for. Now that my imagined project suddenly seems so much more possible, I am excited to get started!

What I wanted to be when I grew up.

I hope you all have a wonderful weekend. I hope this warm weather continues. I hope whatever you get up to, you too find the time to tick something off your personal to-do list. 

Let's just give that to ourselves this weekend!

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.