Mothballed

We have just received news that all the current production and the threatened possible massive expansion of a local quarry has been ‘mothballed’.

 

In Celebration

 

Listen, can you hear the sighing of the Earth’s relief?

My cottage sighs along and smiles, she always

smiled, even on the grey hanging days that

had beset us in the dark times when even

Earth’s light faded and even she seemed sad.

My cottage smiled at signs of spring; she opened

out her doors for me, threw wide her windows

and her heart.

At night, even in winter, her enchantment  

would  prevail; she would grow brighter,  the dust

motes, cobwebs and all the mess would retreat.

Tonight, with just  the flicker of a smile

amidst the kindness of a lamplight’s glow

she tempts me from her fire of crackling logs.

Under the moon we celebrate the news;

we sing and whoop and clap along for joy.

I play music and only very softly  

shall I sing but my son will write and sing

his song and play guitar.  The neighbours will

rock, the fields shall resound, Michael will play

harmonica. And all will whistle, hum

or la de la.

And all should miss this,  if ever it were gone.

Listen, can you hear the sighing of the Earth’s relief?

 

Cait O’Connor

 

 

Facebook?

Good Friday

Facebook is fine.  I resisted it for a long while.  I both resisted and detested it in equal measure. I joined it and I left it but now I have given in and surrendered.   It’s an entertainment, an exercise in distraction for me,  an act of procrastination which is at times fun but can also be serious, annoying, amusing, depressing, uplifting, negative, positive, pleasant, unpleasant, informative, anger-inducing or trivial in the extreme but mainly it is a good way to keep in touch with some lovely relatives, the few who are on Facebook and also the many folk I never/rarely see.   I have also recently found some people who I lost touch with some years ago,  a wonderful bunch of fellow bloggers of old, some of which who, like me, are still at it.  So Facebook is a great place to while away (waste) lots of time.  I should be spending this time trying to be creative instead of sharing little ‘snippets of fascination’ which are passing round the Facebook arena.  I have been doing a lot of this lately and a very dear friend was even rather worried about my sanity recently :-).  No need to worry, I told him, I know I am mad, it's when you don't know you have to worry.:-)

I am also using Facebook to advertise my new genealogy/people tracing venture which my daughter and I have started recently.  The local paper did an article about us this week which I hope will generate a bit of interest. We have a website, a blog and a very new Facebook page as well.  I would love it if  you would visit and if you go to the Facebook page could you Like it? I hate asking these sort of things as I hate promoting/publicising myself in any way.

But I am being called to my own blog today and coming here is like coming ‘home’ to a safe and cosy place, sometimes serene, sometimes not  -   but a place where I welcome special people who I feel blessed to have met within this space that they call the Blogosphere, a place from where I can go out and meet and visit like minded folk and read their wonderful writings.   I cannot imagine leaving this world as I would miss it so.

I also feel the need to be positive and to start posting Blessings again as I did in the old days.  I have been reading A Year of Doing Good  by Judith O’Reilly – a blogger of some standing of Wife in the North fame.  Her book is written as a diary of her attempts to perform a good deed every day for a whole year; it is an inspiring book which is  funny but is also very moving and one which I can (positively)recommend.

Anyways, I shall start posting blessings on here again, daily if possible (!) even if I can only think of one and I shall also endeavour to record, like Judith O'Reilly, the good deeds which I have done or which others have carried out – the latter of course being blessings in themselves. I apologise if I am repeating blessings which I have posted years ago, I have been blogging since 2007 so there are bound to be repeats but heyho there must be a limit to the blessings in life,..............or are there not?

Today’s Blessings?  – the day is still young  but so far there has been

Sunlight

Robins

This is my special one

 

Melting Snow

Friends and the ability to communicate, chat even, online. While I was writing this post I was chatting to two friends at once on........... yes you’ve guessed it -  Facebook.

I think it’s trying to tell me something don’t you?

My much loved music brought to me freely now by Spotify.  (I am working on adding it to my blogpage for you to enjoy also).

Words,

Pictures.

Good Deeds.

And my Good Deed for today?

Keeping my wild birds fed all year, so it’s a daily thing.  Am spending a fortune on fatballs (that word always makes me smile) and wild bird seed but it’s worth it for the pleasure I get from birdwatching.

That’s what giving is all about isn’t it, much lovelier for one’s soul than receiving?

Before I go, a poem.

 

I Taught Myself To Live Simply

 

I taught myself to live simply and wisely,

to look at the sky and pray to God,

and to wander long before evening

to tire my superfluous worries.

When the burdocks rustle in the ravine

and the yellow-red rowanberry cluster droops

I compose happy verses

about life's decay, decay and beauty.

I come back. The fluffy cat

licks my palm, purrs so sweetly

and the fire flares bright

on the saw-mill turret by the lake.

Only the cry of a stork landing on the roof

occasionally breaks the silence.

If you knock on my door

I may not even hear.

Anna Akhmatova

 

Bye for now,

Go mbeannai Dia duit,

Happy Easter,

Cait.

The Healer

Meal Beach, Burra Isles, Shetland by Robin Gosnall

The Healer

 

They called her the Lightworker because she

always healed with the Light. At her touch, woman,

or man, any whose lives were grey and flat like

sand were drawn into her Light. You did  not

so much see, as sense its reflection as

your pain and suffering were carried away over

the distant hills until you could barely

feel them.   As they were fading, their heavy

storm clouds were changing to the softest meringue.

On hearing her whispers, the wildest white

horses would quieten and become gentle

in her wake, the rough seas would calm, giant

waves become fluffy, till all that was dark

would start shining and sliding out of the shadows;

riding, gliding, deftly drawing into

the glimmering light and dancing slowly,

softly, into peace and enlightenment.

 

Cait O’Connor

 

 

Poem written for creative writing group Magpie Tales in response to the photo prompt.

 

Notes of a Therapist

 

I started by asking what her interests were,

how did she spend her days? She told me that

she didn’t much like days. These were the things

she loved most of all: bedtime and dreaming

and sometimes, before nightfall, like the proverbial

shepherdess, she would gaze with an artist’s eye

upon the pinking of the summer skies which

called to her camera and for solo

trips into the hills. On her return she

spent time online with her secret ‘friend’

‘Jiminy Cricket’ whose real identity

could be anyone. This is what she said

she despised, that fact and the two stuffed squirrels

 which he said he kept in a case on the

wall and the way he was always disappearing

 to put fish food in the tank. (He sounded real

creepy to me).  She told me that she had

cried recently because she had seen her

daughter’s  copies of Cosmopolitan which only

reinforced her lost youth with all its past passions.

I left it there, when  the tissues had run out.

 

Cait O’Connor

To Irish Mothers

Happy Mother's Day

I make no apologies. I am posting something I posted on Mother's Day five years ago.

Feelings about mothers never change do they?

Do revisit the page:

http://caitoconnor.blogspot.co.uk/2008/03/to-irish-mothers.html