whistle + Whisper
Musings
Variety is the spice of life
Sometimes we all worry far too much about what others think. There was a time when I certainly did, before I got over myself and realised that variety is the spice of life and doing things differently, liking things that others don't and, crucially, being brave enough (or unbothered enough) to admit it, is actually very satisfying and quite empowering.
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Rose's garden
The sweet peas are climbing up the trellis now, their tendrils reaching out to the wooden supports like the hands of a drowning man towards his rescuer. The plants are stronger than last years. Last year’s sweet peas were grown from seeds I harvested from the plant outside my Dad’s hospice room in the autumn of 2019, intending to grow them in his memory. And I did. They produced two small crops of pale purple blooms in early summer, just enough to fill a tiny Ikea bud vase. But having those two little crops was enough for me. After that they struggled against an attack of green fly and I suspect root rot, their lower leaves turning yellow. Even the ladybirds that I lifted over from the roses to feast on the green fly showed no interest at all and migrated back across the garden to the more attractive plants.
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Living in the moment
I've been fortunate enough that my ancestors cared enough about history to preserve and hand down many family objects and papers and so I have become a bit of a custodian over the years. This has its benefits - being the introvert and ponderer that I am, I love conjuring up the past and imagining what people were doing, how they dressed, what their circumstances were, what houses they lived in, where these objects that I now have were placed in those houses, where they sat when writing the letters that I now have in my possession, were they surrounded by gaggles of children, were they in a quiet room with just a clock ticking in the background, was there joy in their every day or did they suffer hardship, loss, illness?
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New Horizons
My beloved Dad, who I realise that I very frequently reference in my posts, probably because his loss a year and a half ago is still very real to me, loved the fact that I loved to write. When I was a tortured teen, sitting in my room, eschewing much of the then current music for the more sophisticated and cerebral musings of Bob Dylan and Neil Young, I also wrote a lot of poetry. Let's be very clear, it was, as you would expect, navel-gazing nonsense.
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Out of the shadows
We have a little wrought-iron railing feature above our front door that was last painted when we renovated the house 11 years ago. Last weekend we decided to give it the attention it deserves and my husband set about stripping the paint from it, layers upon layers.
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Aldi to the rescue
The highlight of my week was a trip to the supermarket! There, I've said it! Yesterday one of my friends told me about the superb red wine she had got in Aldi for just €9 and recommended I check it out!
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Pet Love
As I observed one cat looking in my bedroom window, one cat waiting to be let out my bedroom door and one dog observing the two cats this morning, I knew exactly what today’s blog would be about…
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Do not disturb
Close to the northern end of the magnificent Boyne Viaduct in Drogheda, there’s an historic, and now decommissioned, cemetery, the Cord* cemetery, that dates back to the 13th century. At its south-western corner, where the Cord Road meets Thomas Street, you can barely differentiate a patched-up portion of the old cemetery wall from the rest, due to many years of weathering and other repairs. It’s at that very spot, on the other side of the wall, that a very large, very old tree stood almost eighty years ago.
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The Cleanager
We have the best chats in our house, although generally when we start chatting, I get carried away with stories and my daughters think I’m certifiably mad. Take last weekend.
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It Makes Scents
I’ve got a great nose. No, I don’t mean in the literal sense, although, to be fair, it doesn’t embarrass me. What I mean is that my sense of smell is really good.
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All you need
Love! It’s all you need, according to The Beatles. It will find a way, so says Lionel Richie, and a few other people.
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The truth of the matter
I was struck by the words of a commentator on TV last night, I paraphrase ‘let’s be clear, Donald Trump is an egotist. Egotists push their agenda all the time. They never believe they are wrong. They rely on lies’. If there’s one thing I cannot abide it’s a liar.
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House of Horrors
I’m pretty good at interpreting myself. By that I mean working out why I do things certain ways or what has caused me to have particular quirks.
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Find Your Passion
Show me someone who doesn’t have a passion and I’ll show you someone who doesn’t have a soul. To be passionate is to live.
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It started with a scarf
Having time (and peace and quiet) is often when one is least productive. Covid-19 happened and then lockdown and I half formulated all sorts of plans, things I had been wanting to do for ages and never had the time to do...
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