The Great Clearing

I walk the beach, the sky is blue, the air clear and still, fresh frozen February chill, the mist lying in the hollows of the valley, the skylarks singing as they begin their mating season: picturesque...

But here too are signs, everywhere, of what has been.

The rock pools are pulverised, shattered by the sheer force of the sea. The birdsong mingles with the sound of a roof, which was torn off like a candy bar wrapper, being replaced. The shoreline has been redrawn by the wind and the waves, since last time I was here, and now stands 10, 20 feet in places, further back than a week before. Skeletons of poles stick up, rooted in concrete, standing lonely on the new bare sand. In weeks gone by they held life buoys, to rescue life from the waves… now stolen away by the sea. 

What will emerge here in this newly uncovered sand, stripped bare? Which wild plants will take root, stones find their resting place, picnics be had?  I am minded that even after devastation, life always finds its way back. New, different, but life all the same. 

The bog is bare and low. In summer you can barely see across it for the waving reeds but now it looks like a hummocky field. The inlet wide and deep now, more like the mouth of a river, weaving its way through the bog with grace. The tea house peeps out from the trees. And the massive arboreal stand that my father in the great optimism of a ten year old, planted, that now shelter and cradle his home and family.

And I think of the winds that swept through here last week. The worst in a generation… or maybe more. An ominous sign of things to come, perhaps, as our environment kicks back. We were all shaken by the winds. They swept through our souls, as well as over our houses. The eye of the hurricane rested here. Trees thrown over like pick up sticks, trampolines like tissues. We saw how poorly rooted these things were. How the wind if she wishes can make us her puppets, rags dolls to be thrown through the air at will.

These winds cleared out the dead wood. The rains washed out that which was not deeply rooted. They forced resilience. Forced us to look again at where we live and how… and how we need to maintain and live within, not simply build over, nature’s systems. Shorelines and floodplains, river valleys and mountain tops may be beautiful, but they have purposes beyond our need for beauty, they are functional parts of a dynamic whole. We cannot live wherever we want without consequence.

These two months of storms are the weather equivalent of the financial storms which started back in 2008, which we are still only recovering from. They are a clearing out of all our systems. Leaving us feel exposed, vulnerable, being forced to reconsider, rebuild, rethink the way we live.

We long to return to life as normal, the way things were. But these shocks and storms will keep coming, intensifying the need to rethink everything, and pull together, to find a new way forward, on this newly exposed ground. There are no life buoys, all we have is faith in the great unknowable mystery, our earth, ourselves, and each other. That is more than enough for magic to occur.

Bringing Spring In

We have been bringing spring in - in our craft, the flowers on our nature table...

Spring, welcome to the Pink House! We've been waiting for you!

Come on in (she threaded the big string of rainbow beads all by herself this morning!)

We're getting excited about our annual cherry blossom picnic - the buds are swelling - when will it be?
(Art by Lucy Pearce - for sale!)

Through the ice window

It has been bitterly cold outside here, spring may have sprung, and the flowers are up, but yesterday the polar wind was howling right down from the north, and so we snuggled up warm in front of the fire with a movie, and watched the snowflakes swirling in the late afternoon light.

It was too cold to spend much time outside. But in five minutes.... and a little waiting time... we made magic!!  It's been ages since we've made and shared some ephemeral art on Dreaming Aloud - I LOVE doing it - read more about it here!

An ice window! Which is now swinging on our washing line, glimmering icily in the bright morning sun.

And you can make one too if the cold winds are blowing round your way... It's a great nature activity to get everyone, big and small outside and active for a short time before running in to warm up with hot chocolate and marshmallows...

The next chilly day, gather some spring flowers and leaves from your garden, sprinkle them into a bowl of water, and leave overnight to freeze. Simple as that.

Then.. in the morning, magic will have happened! Lift your ice window out of the bowl and hang it on the line!

Embracing the Magic of Moonlit Nights

Welcome to the July Mindful Mama Carnival: Mindfulness and Nature
This post was written for inclusion in the Mindful Mama Carnival hosted by Becoming Crunchy and TouchstoneZ. This month our participants have shared their experiences of mindfulness and the natural world. Please read to the end to find a list of links to the other carnival participants.
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I remember the first time I really saw the stars. 

I was seven, visiting my cousins in America - and the summer sky seemed alive with a million twinkling dots, awe inspiring in their infinitude. The moon floated in glory and I felt so full of life. Amazed that I had never really seen the night sky. 

As a child the night was for being inside, for bedtime. I wasn't afraid of the dark, but nor was I shown its majesty.

And as an adult I seem to continue this pattern. As the darkness falls we retreat inside into our own cosy cocoons, forgetting the celestrial display of the skies above our heads. The nightly reminder of our position in the universe and the beauty of nature, of our precarious position on a tiny spinning globe of rock dancing amongst millions of others, of the pure chance or design, whichever your belief, of the very existence of life itself, let alone our own individual lives.  


And so I commit to two things this summer to bring the night into our lives. 
The first is to bring our children out and lie on our backs and look up at the stars. Just to be and to see.

And the second is to celebrate the full moon with other women every month. 

Since making the connection between the moon and my cycles when writing my book  Moon Time: A guide to celebrating your menstrual cycle,
I now find that I really feel the lack of the full moon in my life if I miss it one month. I find the full moon energising, illuminating even.

And I have, for a whole host of reasons, missed it now for a few months in a row. As a result my cycle shifted totally and my energy seemed to sink. 
  

A few months back a couple of friends and I met down on the beach on the full moon and did a gentle mindfulness ceremony - breathing in, feeling the sand beneath our feet, the wind in our hair, washing away the past month and visioning the new, blessing ourselves and each other (via a mama water fight!!) with an icy cold ocean blessing. The moon hid herself that night, but we all left the beach feeling connected to each other, ourselves and our place in the universe. Revitalised and invigorated from being together, from taking time for ourselves, in nature and with sisters.

So I am calling out to all mindful mamas far and near, to mark the full moon in whatever way speaks to you.

(You will notice that there are TWO full moons in August. This is a Blue Moon  -  the second full moon in a given month, this gives rise to the phrase "once in a blue moon" as it is very rare to have two full moons in a month!)

You might choose to:

• make and walk a labyrinth on the beach,
• light a bonfire and dance around it, 
• lie on the grass on your back, 
• sing together in harmony,
• go for a walk with your lover, 
• breathe mindfully by yourself, 
• pick flowers for yourself by moonlight,
• have a bubble bath by moonlight.

Do something that fills you with light.

I am making a commitment to myself, and all women in my local area to be out on our local beach, Shanagarry strand at moon rise for every full moon of the year from now on. Please do join me, spread the word - it would be so exciting for it to grow every month!

Resources:
Moon Time: a guide to celebrating your menstrual cycle - Lucy H Pearce
The Stargazers Handbook: an atlas of the night sky - Giles Sparrow
Earth Child - Games Stories, Activities, Experiments and Ideas about Living Lightly on Planet Earth - Kathryn Sheehad, and Mary Waidner
The Green Hour - Todd Christopher
http://www.moonphases.info

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Visit The Mindful Mama Homepage to find out how you can participate in the next Mindful Mama Carnival!
On Carnival day, please follow along on Twitter using the handy #MindMaCar hashtag. You can also subscribe to the Mindful Mama Twitter List and Mindful Mama Participant Feed.
Please take time to read the submissions by the other carnival participants:

• Zen and the Art of Raising Chickens Jenn at Monkey Butt Junction has found a connection to nature in her very own backyard, thanks to her chickens.
• Healing Gemstones and Crystals for Children Jennifer at Hybrid Rasta Mama discusses which genstones and crystals are best used by children to support physical, emotional, and/or spiritual healing.
• A Gardener’s Meditation Andrea at Tales of Goodness shares how she finds peace and renewal through gardening.
• Weeding My Thoughts Amanda at Let’s Take the Metro discusses how nature keeps her in the moment and stops her endless stream of thoughts.
• Grounded in Nature Rani at OmSheSaid shares her walk in nature, and through expressive words, shares this journey to coming home.
• Embracing the Magic of Moonlit Nights Lucy at Dreaming Aloud shares ways to embrace the magic of moonlit nights with your children and as a woman.
• Meditation for a Mindful Mama Alinka at Baby Web guides you through her research on the science of meditation, its numerous benefits, and presents to you a life changing meditation exercise.
• The Wild Within Naturemummy at Motherhood: My Latest Adventure reflects on the soothing qualities of wild places.
• Nature’s Lessons in Mindfulness Tat at Mum in Search wants to bring the same mindfulness that comes so easily in nature to her relationships.
• On Manicured Nature: We Roam in Small Spaces Featherstory at The Aniweda Dream shares her gratitude for her limited natural settings and her plans to expand her children's experience with the natural world.
• Garden (Time Out) Meditation Do you ever need a time out for yourself? Amy at Anktangle finds that during a difficult parenting moment, taking pause to spend a few minutes outside is just the thing she needs to be able to experience renewed patience, focus, and energy.
• Nature Makes Me a Better Mother Terri at Child of the Nature Isle could not imagine parenting without Mother Nature.
• The Healing Power of Sunshine Karen at Playful Planet shares her experiences of reneweal in the natural world.
• Natural History Kenna at A Million Tiny Things gets out into nature, 200 years ago, and isn't sure she likes it there.
• Nurtured by Nature Darcel at The Mahogany Way shares with us how being in nature helps her feel centered and connected.
• Mindfulness and Nature Zoie at TouchstoneZ explores the connection between mindfulness and the natural world.
• A Sense of Awe and Wonder Kelly at Becoming Crunchy shares the feeling she never fails to get from the natural world and how it guides her to the mindfulness she craves.

Happy days: celebrating autumn

I LOVE autumn - the changing colours, the bright berries, the bite in the air, the mellow afternoon light. Walking the country lanes and popping blackberries into our mouths. Another day, another warning, (for our first blackberry warnings see here!) This time, rats! Back off people and just let us ENJOY them!!

I also love celebrating. But we have no official mid-autumn celebration - harvest festival is past and halloween still a couple of weeks off...

So this is my own celebration of autumn, just because I can! We have an autumn wreath on our door, made of twined wild clematis (old man's beard), with fallen coloured leaves, hawthorn berries and crab apples attached with wire. 

Our nature table  (want to  make one of your own, see here!) is overflowing with finds, including a new little mama-crafted baby acorn boy in his own oak leaf snuggle bag. Do check out this season's Rhythm of the Home for craft and celebration ideas aplenty.

And walks, as many walks as we can, with gladness in our hearts. Happy days!

(with thanks to my dearest husband, Mr Dreaming Aloud himself, for his wonderful photography skills  xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

Full moon - the last big shift is here

Please tune out if this is not your thing...

For the rest of you astrologically minded wise women and explorers of things unknown - welcome. We are in special times indeed.

It's the full moon tonight, I felt it before I checked on the calendar, I am getting more and more attuned to the moon's cycles. Sounds corny, feels good. I watched the moon rise, golden white and full over a newly ploughed field as the tractor went backwards and forwards planting seed. Seed which will lie in the ground, quietly gestating, establishing itself unseen, until the silent spring warmth beckons forth green shoots.

This is where I am at too. Planting soul seeds in my womb - with prayers, affirmations and visions. May good things grow there. I am fertile with ideas and creativity, with life itself, and for that I am profoundly grateful. The dark night has passed and a new day is dawning.

If you are that way inclined, head outside and moonbathe. Take your top off and bear your breasts to the moon. Feel the electric glow of moonlight and chill on your skin, take your shoes off, feel the dew beneath your feet. Wash your face in the dew, and your breasts. Imagine this purifying your bodymind. Invoke the timeless wisdom of the moon into your body and soul. Sing or chant, whisper your prayers. Root yourself in the earth, feel your sensitivities rise, your awareness grow, of your body, of the earth beneath your feet and the heavens above you, and your own place in this vast magical plane.

Yesterday was the beginning of the Mayan Seventh Day. This is the last day of the Mayan calendar. It ends on the 27th. Then that is it. The end of all cycles. Done. A new world will be shifting into place at the same time as the New Moon, Samhain, All Souls, Halloween, the end of British Summer Time. That weekend is a massive shift. And we in our way are marking our own shift as my husband completes his last day of work for his current employer, and our own new era begins.

I feel the dreams shifting and changing and possibilities growing by the day. I am consciously shifting through blocks on every level. Bringing darkness out into the light. As so many other people I know are too.

Some wonderful books have arrived in my life these past couple of days - which I shall be blogging about, both about massive shifts in the sacred feminine and in the human population as a whole. And the World's biggest Summit and Big Fat Lies Summits are helping shift stuff and light lightbulbs for me.

I feel honoured to be living in these times. Grateful to be here and now. Loving where I live in all its beauty and community. Loving my work. Grateful and honoured to be my children's mother and my husband's lover. Grateful indeed.

For other great blog posts on the astrological state of affairs right now, check out:
http://bohemiantwilight.blogspot.com/2011/10/aries-full-moon.html
http://fromthewetware.blogspot.com/2011/10/on-seventh-day-we-take-out-garbage.html
http://dreamingaloudnet.blogspot.com/2011/08/moonlight-blessings.html

Blackberry jammin'

There is something so precious about blackberries and their sheer abundance. They are truly wild, free and seasonal. I savour the timeless joy of walking slowly along our precious inheritance - the mixed hedgerow - and popping sweet berries into my mouth by the handful. Heading out with a pot to collect them in, and ending up heading home with a small haul, and a full belly. But what is best - they're good for you - a good hit of vitamin C as the autumn chills hit, and even better, all children seem to love them.

Each local culture has its own customs and lore for the harvesting of wild foods, and they are particularly unique for blackberries I have discovered. I am used to blackberrying in late September and early October. However, here in County Cork the superstition says that the witches piss on them after the last day of September, or the devil. In fact many Irish people do not pick them at all as they are the property of the fairies and to pick them tempts the wrath of their curses.

Harvest Moon

This weekend is harvest moon: the full moon closest to the autumn equinox.

The time of reaping and celebration of the year's harvest. Where communities would traditionally come together. Sharing the work, sharing the rewards. Feasting together. Companions, literally people breaking bread together. The bread which they had tilled the soil for, scattered the seed, joined together to cut the wheat in fine weather, to thresh and make bales.

This is the time for bringing the harvest home - physically, spiritually , stocking our larders to see us through the cold, dark months ahead. Though most of us are cut off from the literal harvesting of our food, unless we have a vegetable garden of our own. Our food is disconnected from the farmers. Food is always there, on the shelves. We forget the joy of the harvest. The physical exertion traded for stored calories. The reliance on every member of the community to make it happen. Food is just food, a commodity, easy come, easy go. We don't need each other any more to survive. We don't need to celebrate nature's bounty: it is always there. And so whilst we are rich on easy calories and  in money in comparison to those rural farming communities of bygone days, we are poor too if we do not gather together, to feast, to celebrate and give thanks.

It is fitting that this weekend is a weekend of community celebrations here - a tapas evening at a new local cafe, eating with friends; our multi-generational community will share a life affirming luncheon at Saturday Pizzas; drinking together to celebrate a friend's birthday and then a motherblessing, a group of women gathering to celebrate and nurture a pregnant friend about to give birth, with love, massage, mindful connection... and of course food!

My children and I gathered wheat and barley which had sprouted on the roadside. We pounded it into flour and used it to make a harvest loaf together, watching the miracle of yeast and grain and water become our daily bread. We feasted on our harvest loaf and gave thanks for the turning of the seasons.

Do take the time over the next couple of weeks to celebrate with your companions. Take time to break bread, to raise a toast to each other and the farmers who provided your food, to the sun and the earth. To bring harvest home to you and yours.

This post is being contributed to the Big Lunch which celebrates communities eating together every June in the UK. Do take some time to check out their great blog.


To find out about Dreaming Aloud's Big Lunch experience do check out this post . And this one about  why I decided to get involved with The Big Lunch.


Do take time to read my posts on Radical Homemaking. 


For more on the spiritual and astrological aspects of this harvest moon time see Hey Allie 

Seasonally impossible

The first time I saw it I thought I was going mad.

The next time my husband thought I was going mad.

But then I saw it again and got proof... elderflowers and elderberries on the same plant... in September!! Have you ever seen this before?

But this is not the only unseasonal occurrence in the past twelve months.

We had snow on roses and ripe strawberries in our garden in December last year. Daffodils too! The parsley and chives were up and green in January and had gone to seed by May. lettuces sown in late March didn't sprout till mid August.  Surely this is climate change in action. Do you have any strange unseasonal happenings in your neck of the woods?

Finding Form: a meditative guide to creating Random Acts of Beauty

I went into the woods, wanting to make something. And blanked. Fancy images from Andy Goldsworthy flashed before my eyes. But here I was, a mama, with a helpful nearly-three-year-old on foot and a fractious teething, just-turned-one-year-old in a buggy. And half an hour to spare before I had to collect my husband from the doctors. So it had to be quick, simple and I wanted it to be seasonal. Oh, and it's going to go on a blog... And my friend is coming down tomorrow to hunt for it...panic... stage fright...blank...

Breathe. Look around. Walk with your eyes open...

So I did. This is like beginner's mind in meditation. Always start again with beginner's mind: open to all possibilities, to the joy of everything.

And that's when I saw the catkins. Lots and lots of them. Little shaggy fairy lambs tails. In acid yellow, ochre and brown. I started to gather them.

Oh I do like to be beside the seaside...

These are the happy summer days of future memories. When the days were always sunny and we were free...

When life was a circus

And we were pirates... and painted our own flags

How does your garden grow?

The weather has been against us gardeners this year. A month of chilly days and bitter winds has burnt the leaves and stalled growth of anything that was planted out. Six packs of seeds direct sown into the ground have produced not a sign of life. The slugs have been loving the damp and have chomped through all our sunflowers. Lettuce went from zero to past it with only one tasting.

We have been pruning back interloping shrubs and trees which have started to dominate, and which we have quietly hated for a year. The result being lots of bare patches.  So these past two days have been spent filling the gaps- thanks to the generosity of my father-in-law who stopped by yesterday with a boot full of sweet peas, cornflowers, stocks, sunflowers, courgettes and one random runner bean, we were on our way.

Then today we made a visit to the garden centre, my witchy fingers hungry for more herbs. I found a few: aloe vera, a lemon verbena and pulsitilla. And marigolds... but only French ones, our calendula officialanis that we seeded straight into the ground are looking very sad (does anyone know can you eat French marigolds?). Heartsease pansies, silver bedding plants and some yellow daisy types - our garden is looking distinctly less halopetia-ified, and the colours are singing. The purple side of my herb garden (thyme, lavender, rosemary and chives) are now counterbalanced by a sunshine yellow side of daisy types, courgettes, marigolds and golden marjoram and lemon balm.

And a fuschia to greet visitors to replace last year's one which bit the frost.. shortly before they fall over the sword and mop and pile of videos for the charity shop which fill the doorway.

The wild strawberries are fruiting more and more - and wonderfully the kids find them too sour, so they're all mine! The roses are coming out, as are the pinks and nasturtiums. And the fox gloves, how I love fox gloves, that I patiently planted last year are out- white fingerlings with purple ink splots.

The wind is wailing again, and my newly planted sweet peas are not happy. Come on summer, come on sun!

Cultivating Abundance

Welcome to the May Carnival of Natural Parenting: Growing in the Outdoors
This post was written for inclusion in the monthly Carnival of Natural Parenting hosted by Code Name: Mama and Hobo Mama. This month our participants have shared how they encourage their children to connect with nature and dig in the dirt. Please read to the end to find a list of links to the other carnival participants.

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It begins to be seen that the poor are only they who feel poor, and poverty consists in feeling poor.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Feeling poor happens very easily in our mainstream culture, due to our perpetual desire for more.

Shannon Hayes, Radical Homemakers

In our garden we cultivate many flowers, fruits, herbs and vegetables, and even two chickens. But the thing we cultivate mostly is invisible, but most important of all: abundance.

Our garden is the location for regular celebrations with family and friends: cherry blossom picnics, royal wedding picnics, birthday picnics, sunny day picnics... When the cupboard feels bare taking a loaf of bread and cheese and a box of homemade biscuits outside transforms it magically, thanks to grass, sun and a friendly robin, into a feast fit for a king. Shared with family and friends it beats dinner in the finest Michelin-starred restaurant.

A boring afternoon “stuck” at home is transformed into a creative adventure when my sister comes by with a big sheet and we all paint it together.

A long day of gardening is magicked into sweetness as we toast marshmallows over a fire made of the cuttings, the flickering flames warming our spirits.

It is a hub for the other children who live on the estate who seek it out to play with water and stones, their fancy mobile phones and expensive toys abandoned to get on with the real work of childhood.

God paints in bright colours

Driving into Ballymaloe House gardens, the place where my father and my son have spent parts of their childhood, always feels like coming home. We "drive in the yellow" as my three-year-old calls it. Acre upon acre of gold as far as the eye can see, man-high shocking yellow oil seed rape flowers waving in the wind, line both sides of the drive.

The ripe grape-like bunches of watercolour mauve wisteria greet us, jingling on the austere grey wall of the venerable house. We abandoned the car and meandered down to the lazy river. This is one of the first walks that our one-year-old has done on foot. And so we explored along with her, naming the things we see for her delight, just like Adam, and this our own Eden...

The beech woods with their gravity-defying fresh green leaves, each carefully crimped by fairy hands, waved above our heads as we greeted the chickens: red, white, gold, black, fluffy footed and red cropped roosters. Proud white geese stretching their necks in warning. And the regal peacock, resplendent in his iridescence.

Does a peacock know how beautiful he is? He may rattle his tail in temptation at a female, but does he know? If you and I and all our friends were to sit down one day and try to design the most beautiful bird in the world, we wouldn't even get close. From the dainty tiara, to the black and white striped wings, the iridescent blue which belongs on a beetle, not a bird, and the eyes on his tail. He has never seen himself. He probably thinks he looks like a pea-hen, mottled and brown... it reminds me of us, we see our drabness, not our beauty or magnificence.

We walked the woods. Bluebells, pink bells, white bells in the dappled sun, jingling a tune for fairy ears. Hot pink azaleas and rhodedendrons trumpeting their song. Wild garlic pungent to nose and tongue calls to be picked.

We tracked a tiger and touched his teeth, hand-in-hand to be sure we were brave enough. We wondered at a  waterfall churning bubbles out of thin air. Found a tree that grew handkerchiefs of the finest white silk for kings. And intoxicated ourselves in the scent of damask rose bushes.

For an hour we were as queens.  The fairies were our friends. In the garden we met God. And she paints in bright colours.

An Eden to call our own

Welcome to the Earth Day Blog Carnival

This post is part of the Earth Day Blog Carnival hosted by Child of the Nature Isle and Monkey Butt Junction. Each participant has shared their practices and insights of earth friendly, environmentally conscious, eco-living. This carnival is our way to share positive information and inspiration that can create healing for our planet. Please read to the end of this post to find a list of links to the other carnival participants. Happy Earth Day!

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For years I have dreamt of a garden. A garden to call my own. On my travels through Vietnamese mountain ranges in dilapidated buses and sitting in Zen temples in Japan I dreamed of a place to plant daffodills and strawberries. A little patch of earth to call my own.

This post marks a year to the day that that dream began. It is still very much a work in progress. But being a natural growing thing, it always will be. But oh what a work! There is something for every season and every time I walk around it, my soul soars. It really is our very own little patch of paradise on earth. One which we share with a robin, two blackbirds, multiple pigeons, sparrows and crows, butterflies blue, white and red, assorted worms, and less welcome slugs, wasps and mosquitoes.

There is nothing otherworldly about our garden. It is a small patch of earth in a housing estate. 

Threading beauty

Today we made a blossom garland to celebrate Spring
What fun, threading beauty on a string.

A Cherry Blossom Picnic

Having lived in Japan, we fell in love with their spring tradition of o-hanami, a spring picnic under the cherry blossoms (sakura). In late March and early April, in parks, gardens and along river banks around Kyoto, famed for its cherry blossom, you would find o-hanami in full swing. Grandparents and grandchildren. Mums and dads. Lovers. Lots of students. Many in traditional kimonos. All out to celebrate the season's snow-petal beauty with mochi (rice cakes), plum wine, rice balls...

If You go Down to the Woods Today...

If you go down to the woods today you're in for a big surprise!

We were there first! Weaving our magic.

We made a sun web out of catkins...

And rearranged fire stones to make a heart ...

A home waiting for fairy folk to inhabit it... a project for another day!

Want to know more about random acts of beauty? Read here for my introduction to them...

Tomorrow I will post some more on them...

Walking Labyrinths of Sand

Today was a celebration.

Of women's circles.

More than 20 groups throughout the UK and Ireland gathered.

To celebrate...

Creativity,

Togetherness,

Nature,

Love,

Peace,

Being alive,

Being Women,

In honour of 100 years of International Women's Day.

At 12 noon, 

The Flare groups connected in spirit.

We hope our sisters had as wonderful a time as us.

This was our gathering.

You are welcome to join in spirit too...

An icy cold mist and wind surrounded our corner of East Cork, Ireland. 

A true sea mist.

I walked the forty minute walk to our local beach.

With our baby in the buggy

Forming a plan as I walked...

Still unsure as to what we would do...

Or who would be there...

The circle of stones series from this week was circling in my mind

I had a few of my favourite books with me...

Labyrinths of Birth with lots of labyrinth seeds

Make it Wild - for ephemeral art inspiration

and of course Circle of Stones if readings were needed...

Shanagarry strand in the mist

The way to Garryvoe...before we worked our magic!

The island, in all its misty glory

rivers of sand...