Back to the Start!

So, the year comes full circle again and here we are once more on this New Year's Eve or Old Year's Day, this Callenig or Hogmanay, this Ambang Malam or Capodanno, this Sylvester or Réveillon, this ole Oíche Chinn Bliana!

Whatever you call it, it's the annual occasion of looking through both sides of time's window, of letting go of what's gone and of reaching out for what's to come. Consciously and in equal measure!

The one thing I like about this day is its perfect positioning along time's arrow - a day when your vision is omni-directional. Today is as much about looking back in time as it is about looking forward to the future.

It is the day when, again, consciously, you pair what is done and gone with what is yet to come - a time where we all realise that what has gone before us helps us to make sense of the road ahead.

As I sup on my grog on this last day of the year, I can only say that, for me, this past year was a mixed bag of ups and downs, of delights and sorrows but I'd wager that yours was pretty similar to mine - as was the one the chap next to you had ... and the one after him!

But that was last year, wasn't it? 2019 brings with it its own promise and, to take full advantage of it, my only observation is that, though you might need to be Stretch Armstrong on a trampoline to reach for them, the stars are always above you and that, as ever, the ending of one thing usually marks the very spot from where to begin again.

So, starting positions please!

Happy New Year!

More soon ...

Get stuck in!

 

Oh de Cologne!

Always a real treat this time of year to hit the ole European continent in an attempt to soak up a millimetre or two of that envious pre-Christmas atmosphere and charm that seems to descend upon the place like the proverbial mountain dew.

This time it was to Cologne we did venture to sample the delights of the bratwurst and the schnitzel, the glühwein und the kölsch, whilst eyeing up the sights, rejoicing in the relaxed atmosphere of a city that feels safe as houses and savouring the quirkiness of the interior design as much as the splendour of the magnificent colossus outside.

Were the world a smaller place, I'd be back like a shot!

Ooh! It ain't 'alf Christmassy!

More soon ...

 

Great indoors!

And out!

Air Spectacular!

Pity this chap - I reckon it's a kestrel - had to leave it until it was cloudy and dull before putting on a dazzling display of avian derring-do down Sandymount Strand way this afternoon.

It's a rare occasion that one gets to see birds of prey round here so it really was nice to have been able to capture its ominous presence and the grace of its hover and swoop, even if it was only for the briefest of spells in the dimmest of light.

Be sure to come back though pocaire gaoithe!

More soon ... 

The chances were slender the beauties were brief!

Well, Stone-chat the Crows!

Always a pleasure to have the camera to hand when something interesting lines your path and last week it was this wee chap, a stonechat (and his other half), who provided the entertainment as I went walking down through Irishtown Nature Park and onwards towards the Pigeon House and the South Wall.

There among the scrub and the rushes and the marmon grasses that precede the sand and the water, they put on their magical display, dancing from blade to reed to thorn, balancing on each with astonishing grace and aplomb before hovering in the air - in delight, maybe, at their own dexterity - and without them giving tuppence whether I was there or not.

Doubtless,too, they saw me, and had their due diligence on me done, before I saw them and so I'm sure they reckoned my reflexes wouldn't hold a candle to theirs if it came to a challenge.

But, thankfully, at least my eye-to-shutter release synapse is still up to scratch.

I sent a couple of pix on to Birdwatch Ireland's South Dublin Birds site and am delighted to see them published there.

Chat soon ...!

Oiseau du jour - le Stonechat!

'Round Robin!

I've taken to the nature reserve nearby in recent days for a spot of birding and photography given that each and every species, except for the magpie and the crow, has abandoned my little patch of ground since the middle of summer.

To my surprise, however, it's hardly been all aflutter or action packed down there either.

I have heard the chattering of a wren and a blue tit or two but my expeditions have been no cigar when it comes to catching glimpse of any of the species listed on the notices as being resident there - the linnet, stone chat, skylark, goldfinch and green finch - the ones I really want to catch with my camera.

While their general evasiveness is natural enough and heightens the thrill when they do eventually show up, I worry about declining populations in these parts especially given the proliferation (beyond control) in recent years of herring gulls, magpies, rooks and, more recently, of grey crows - none of whom, from observation, are exactly tolerant of their smaller, dulcet and more charming brethren.

One exception though is the old reliable robin. Aggressive by its nature and fairly unseemly when giving vent to same on a bad day, this little titan takes no nonsense from anyone or anything if you cross it, so I was pleasantly surprised when he posed like a supermodel for me over the weekend.

Doffin' the hat, uccellino!

More soon ...

 

You talkin' a me!?

Pull Up a Chair!

A sunny day down an old market in the Monastiraki district of Athens a couple of weeks ago provided a real tonic for the soul and the spirit.

There's something about that city that manages to energise me every time I go for a visit.

The chaos, the bustle and fuss invigorates.

The freedom to roam round for hours on end and still never be more than a foot or two away from whatever it is you need liberates the mind and stirs the whistle in my throat.

I reckon too that this eternal city is one of the last remaining towns in Europe whose centre hasn't been gentrified to within an inch of its life and such outrageous and unsightly things as entire streets lined with scruffy old shops and market stalls selling any old junk you can think off haven't yet been flattened in favour of the usual global behemoths, soulless coffee shops, lifeless bars and fake 'street food' kiosks.

I'm sure it's only a matter of time until it goes the way of all the others but until that time, I'll certainly be going back for ...

More soon ...

No, not one of my gigs!

Sandcastles

So we head into the final quarter of the year, the blue days and the black nights. I've never been a fan of the departure of the light but it came earlier than I expected last night, this on account of being away for the previous two weeks, and knocked me for six. The darkness creeps up to a point and then it pounces.

A person's sensitivity (i.e. mine!) to the passing of time is most strongly felt when on holiday. When you are enjoying yourself against the clock, the feeling of transience is heightened and that same feeling demands instant reflection, a visceral reaction, when it strikes. Time flies. Butterflies.

No matter who you are, I'd wager that it's impossible to be a constant bundle of delight - even in the glorious sunlight.

But I'd still rather be blue and in the sun than black and out of it!

A picture I took last week has since transformed into a metaphor for time and ...

More soon ...

 I'll leave the caption to you!

 

Can nae bee human?

Photography is, for me, more than a mere pastime a lot of the time. I pursue it with a passion that, on occasion, exceeds my fervour for writing songs or playing the uke and when I have the bit in my teeth, hours and hours can fritter away with casual abandon.

Sometimes the results I get make all the effort worthwhile, other times the opposite is true. Sometimes I get shots that I could call great or terrible or artistic or realistic or moody or happy or melancholy or raucous or raunchy or rustic or rubbish or rude. There's a word close to hand to describe nearly every shot I take.

But on a very rare occasion I get a shot that can only be described with one word.

Weird!

As I watched the bee below earlier today, biding my time before releasing the shutter, it seemed  as though it, or something else, was looking back at me!

Plain weird!

More soon ...

Most peculiar, mama!

 

The Autumn Wind and ...

It's always awful when you sense the autumn breeze for the first time, as I did this morning, and with it, the winnowing sense of foreboding that thins all sense of joy - the withering of the sun, the culling of the evenings and the long trudge of descent into the damp dullness of Dublin winter.

For a summer bee like me, it's hard to accept that what was simply common currency these past few months (the endless sun and balm of the greatest summer weather I ever witnessed) has now reverted back to the usual old dull-as-dishwater disappointment of eleven degrees and leafless trees and mucky sodden grass.

I sometimes think our personalities are largely forged by the weather we are dealt. Relentless sun makes us fiery with enthusiasm, relentless snow and ice makes us hard, resourceful and determined. Relentless shit half-arsed squally old bollix makes us ... from Dublin!  :)

Ah, well at least I have my mem-or-eees of my summer bees!

More soon ...

"My fickle friend ... the summer wind"

Lovesick Shay and the São Paulo Cowboy!

Sometimes you play with a guy that brings the best out in ye ... this chap always does!



Ripples thru the clouds ...

Musing on a Windy Space!

Ten Line Poem

When there's nothing in my mind
Nothing of any kind
I sit and ponder
The great beyond or
Read a booook
Or play me uke
Or in the gaff
Make a cinemagraph!
Or upon my oath
Sometimes both! 

😊

More soon ...

C'mon now, you hum it, I'll play it!

Red Admirable!

This summer must be the most splendid one I've ever spent on this wee isle that is ole Ireland.

What a luxury it really is to be able to spend the daylight hours under the fullness of the sun for a change - and for what now must be the best part of two whole months!

Esto perpetua!

My enjoyment of each day, apart from watching the World Cup, has involved little more than sitting in the garden or the park or walking down the street and keeping my eyes open for any long since seen visitor that might chance to make a random appearance.

This afternoon it was the turn of the Red Admiral below to come a-calling.

He landed on the wall at the end of the garden and spread his wings for a couple of seconds before ending the show with a flutter and a bow and then flying off to pastures new.

He didn't allow me much time to get the camera settings right but, what the heck, it's worth sharing anyway.

More soon ...

Admirable general!

The Bees Knees!

As you've probably gathered from previous posts, I've been quite taken with the delights of the garden in summer-time this past year or so.

As a veteran of apartment living, having recently acquired a miniscule plot of the great ole outdoors now makes me feel a bit like Darwin on Galapagos or even Tarzan down the Botanics. Every flutter of a wing and every peck of a beak is a sheer delight.

And though I might be slightly overstating things ... I have to say that just to see da boids and da beez going about their mundane lives - in my back yard - is a joy to behold even if all they are probably doing is their equivalent of the shopping.

Still, I suspect that they would hardly be delighted to know that they constantly have a lens pointed at them every time they go to sniff a petal or chomp on a berry.

Or, maybe, they simply couldn't care less about it once you cough up the ole pounds, shillings and pence that are their pollen, berries and seeds. Pay your dues before you get your buzz, pal, they most likely might say! No different to us!

Happy to oblige.

More soon ... 

Lovin' the buzz man!

Visiting Hours are Over!

No sooner had I opened the door in to the garden to meet, greet  and snap my new visitor, than he was off.

Disrupt a bird from a feeder and he's gone for good, they say.

They don't react well to being frightened and, as there's plenty more fish in the sea, they won't take any chances by coming back for seconds.

Ah, well it was nice knowing you, Mister Bird.

Hopefully we'll get some ...

More soon!

This bird has flown!

Flamin' Groovy!

The fire in our house has established itself as a more or less permanent feature of our evenings this winter and will remain so for the foreseeable future if the latest forecasts are correct. It's been a nice addition though, even if I do, by a country mile, prefer the natural light and warm temperatures of summer.

To me, the forking flames of a fire in full swing are other-worldly things. They are as fleeting as the wisps of smoke they spar with, both of their ethereal forms in constant, mercurial, transition.

But suspending them in time by snapping a photo can reveal the strangest, innermost constituents of their make-up, their haze and glow and shadow, and show how these combine to create weirdly wonderful images.

Images that can nearly become stories, magical mysteries even, in themselves.

Most peculiar, mama!

More soon ...

Flamin' Hell!

 

 

Gift Ideas!

Creative expression is an interesting thing. A good thing too, in that we all have it, we all possess that compulsion to challenge our minds to convert their particular arrangements of ones and zeroes into a (tangible) thing - an idea, an image, a mood, a sound, a song, a word, an abstraction etc.

And with modern technology the way it is, we can now instantly communicate what we've created to the world in the hope that it will be understood or appreciated or at least tolerated by the people we want to impress.

But if you could care less for such things and believe in your idea, then you should lash it out there regardless, its warts and all, wishing woe to the downpressors as ye go!

Yet, there is always the danger that one can spend a lot of time creating, developing, honing and fine-tuning a thought or an idea only to find that it has precious little at its core in the first place. 

The name we give to this is, eh, ... wrapping paper!

But, I suppose, even that has a useful purpose.

More soon ...

Five sheets for a Euro now!

No Smoke Without ...

In a couple of previous posts, I was demonstrating to you all how my decades long obsession with photographing smoke was progressing, so much so, that I was beginning to sound like a bore.
 
And, yet, to risk being totally ostracised from your company forever more, I'd just like to add one more comment to all of this and that is to say ... that there's no smoke without fire!

Yeah, the cold weather of these past few weeks has seen me lighting the hearth with stunning regularity but it wasn't til the other night, as I stared into the flames, trying to find evil and tortured faces within and among them, that I had a better thought.

Why not take a photo or two instead!

Which is what I did and the one here represents my new starting point. Hopefully, all sorts of demons and dragons will reveal themselves to you in the gaps and crossings of the forks and the flames as I progress, but, for starters, have a gander for a ghoul or two below to rattle you to your core!

More soon ...  

 

My latest flame!

Hidden Flame

Nothing much going on these cold, wet and wintry days so, in an effort to neutralise a phase of mid-evening ennui, I took out the camera and went in search of something half-decent to shoot.

Indoors, of course!

I did try to conjure a bit of enthusiasm around the task but the boredom wouldn't shift and set the tone for the whole assignment. After about ten minutes, I just gave up.

Now, as I crank up the PC and review the evening's work, there is really only one pic that is of any interest - a(nother) candle - this one with its concealed flame illuminating the tallow.

I kind of like the shape, the overall tulip-like outline of the wax, and for that reason, here it is.

So there's even something to be said for boredom.

Now, bed for me.

More soon ...

 

Tiptoe thru' the tedium ... ! 

Lights Go Down!

It was time to say au revoir to the Christmas lights and candles for another year last night - you tire of them quickly enough when they've no real reason to be there anymore.

Still, I took a quick snap of them for two reasons: a.) to  remember them by and b.) to re-introduce myself to the photographic idea of depth-of-field!

I kind of liked the result so here it is  for y'all.

Onwards and upwards in 2018 everybody agus go mbeirimid beo ar an am seo arís.

More soon ...

De-lightful evening!

Bestest Books of the Year!

I didn't read a phenomenal amount of books last year on account of being distracted with other stuff but, when I consider the ones I did read, I have to conclude that 2017 wasn't the most enlightening period ever experienced along the course of my literary timeline.

But it's difficult to go a year without reading at least a couple of great works on top of a fair ole clutch of 'fine' reads. The pic below shows, from top-left to bottom-right, the ones I enjoyed most in 2017.

It's always refreshing when a home-grown title trumps all the others and tops the list, as Mike McCormack's Solar Bones did last year for me. I recommend it strongly because, irrespective of genre, it stood head and shoulders above the others, not least for the originality of its central character's voice and perspective and for the writer's uncanny skill of making civil-engineering sound so interesting ... but for much more besides!

My silver medal goes to a book entitled Wounded, by Percival Everett, the last book I read in 2017 (published in 2008). With the brilliant portrayal of the central character and his ambivalence in matters of the heart and the story's ruthless denouement standing out as highlights, I reckon you could do a lot worse than have a browse.

Ditto for the next six or seven titles, each of which were fully in command of their respective subjects and left me pondering such diverse issues as family dysfunctionality, global economics, African American history, digital technology, criminal impersonation and the gritty realism of the 1970s.

As we move towards the back end of the pile, (the good aul yarn section) I recommend the final half dozen for doing well what all books need to do well and that's keep you interested til the last page.

My love of Georges Simenon should also be obvious to you all by now!

More soon ...

All worth a browse, each for its own reasons!