A published writer and avid reader, who likes to take a quirky look at the world about her. Bob is the steady anchor in a house governed by the mayhem of two parents and two grown children who have left home but frequently drop by to either check out the fridge or check in with Bob and Ellie.
Maria's free time is divided between family, work, writing and volunteering.
Like 99% of the people I know our life is busy, despite Covid 19.
Level 5 has been tough for everyone with our daily social contacts limited, smiles are few and all the cheery hello’s of summer have faded. Pat is recovering from a major operation on his shoulder so we have been cautious
So it is not surprising that we sometimes struggle. But our infusion of smiles comes from phone calls, facetime and the occasional visit from granddaughter number one.
Meabh brings a reminder that life is for living and we need to get on with it. She loves all the animals about her but has learnt to navigate through them without any falls or bumps. She has turned the greenhouse into her playhouse and generally calls the shots.
I relised I had not posted on this site in a while. No excuse just like many others, getting to grips with our new normal, though I believe there is no such thing as a normal routine, not any more.
However September is here which should mean, slow lazy gardening days, collecting, gathering an generally enjoying the fruits of our busy summer in the garden. It was going well until the brocoli incident.
You would think we had learnt to be a bit more watchful. But we don’t do anything easy or simple in this house. The Garden was looking good until we learnt that Doug loves …
Brocoli, Peas, Beans, Courgettes, Carrots, Tomatoes (red and green) in fact Doug just likes to eat! The result was flattened areas where he harvested his greens, and reds.
Having 4 dogs pottering around the garden does create a challenge in itself. For various reasons, the main ones being:
Odd things grow in Irish Gardens
Ellie, loves to dig, and hide tennis balls. We believe she does this as a – in case of accidents policy. (In other words some kid accidentally enter the garden and they do not have a tennis or football with them.) She buries them in the ground in odd places, hides them in the hawthorne hedge and even carefully places them in the branches of a thick shrub at the far corner of the garden.
Doug; loves to ramble and eat. He will eat, nasturtiums, broccoli, cabbage, lettuce, tomatoes, courgette and any fruit. He is currently eyeing up the apple tree.
Brook – energetic greyhound will lie down on any part of the garden or just anywhere.
Bell will eat her way through any tall shrub or plant just to create a short cut.
So all in all I think we are doing ok.
This is the new wildflower area of the garden, seeds and weeds flourish as do ocassional children who decide to be a gardener for a while.
How about you guys and ladies and your gardening exploits during the past few months, any success stories?
There was only one Bob, but we did meet a lot of dogs in the past few years, some came to visit, some to stay awhile (including 2 kittens) and today, has me looking at images of some of those we met, and had fun with..
I am writing this out of pure frustration. Perhaps it is an age thing but computers, phones and all types of gadgets, as we are told, need passwords. The trouble being – they all need to be different and we are also told we shouldn’t write them down or make them personal and the longer the better.
Does anyone have a hint or suggestion regarding the ability to stay safe with passwords and more importantly, remember them?
In the blog world we come across many writers and follow them. Sometimes you write something which gets the attention of your followers and occasionally some of them could be great writers. And then you mention your intention to write a book of your own, and see the offers of assistance and definitely good wishes from many. Imagine then the announcement of forming a Book Writer’s Club. You get some attention.
Perhaps all these or one of them or a combination of a few that prompted writer Maria Mathews to give me an offer to read her book. And she did a beautiful thing, she sent an autographed book all the way from Ireland for me in India to read.
I took some unusually long time to start reading it. But once started I felt a connection. This review is about what I felt when I read the book.
Ballycorona sits very nicely between the strip of water that lies to the west of Galway City wedged between the city and the Connemara Natural Park. This island is mostly forgotten by the world at large and for the most part the citizens of this small island are very happy about that. Their mayor, for want of a better title, especially so. It allows him the freedom to do what he wishes, and rule his kingdom his way.
On first meeting this auspicious gent, you would be forgiven for falling into his sugar coated promises and statements, as all about him appear to behave as one unit in their agreement with whatever he says and does. As you will learn, unluckily for me I remembered, eventually that the sweeter the person appears to be the more cautious and fearful you should be.
“Your sense of direction is dreadful,” Steve my husband of fifteen years told me. I nodded and agreed adding, “Perhaps it would have been better for you to take the lead on this outing.”
Silence greeted that statement. For a while the peaceful sound of our oars cutting through the petite waves was the only sound we could hear then a voice, deep and authoritative cut through our dilemma. “You must be lost. We haven’t seen anyone out this far in a curragh for many years.”
Steve did not hesitate with his reply, “It’s a kayak, don’t you know the difference?” He swivelled about in search of the speaker. But there was no one to see. More worrying still there was no boat.
“All I know is that you almost whacked me with that lump of a stick and interrupted our training night.”
Now we both raised our oars and let the boat drift as we looked into the water. Still nothing.
“Not down there you numpty up here.” He sounded exasperated.
We promptly raised our heads and looked above us. The guy on what we presumed was a para glider was easy to spot not because he should have been attending a slimming world class but because his para glider looked as though it had been made by a quilter. As though reading our minds he said, “No reason to worry, this is perfectly safe, I have this covered I have been doing this for years and know what is what.”
As he spoke he did a superb summersault worthy of a Russian gymnast and dived like a cormorant straight into the water beside us. Unlike the cormorant he did not reappear with a fish in his mouth. In fact for two whole minutes he did not reappear at all. Steve who had leant overboard and grabbed some of the lines coming off the colourful fabric parachute was tugging frantically at it and yelling at me to do the same.
I obliged and slowly we reeled him in. Grabbing him by the shoulders and legs we hauled him across the boat and checked for a pulse.
“He is breathing, I don’t know how, but he is lets head for shore” Steve shouted.
I looked around and discovered we were a hundred meters from land of some type. We headed for it balancing the guy in the space between us. It was easy to keep him there as it was a tight fit.
When we reached the rocky beach I was relieved to discover there were six men standing waist high waiting for us. With a nod at both of us they leant across the kayak and yanked him off it. We got out and followed them to see how he was doing. I was a little perturbed to hear their words of wisedom as we trudged after them.
“Spectacular dive.” The tallest man declared.
“His best yet” A burly grey haired man confirmed.
“How high was he this time?” A youngster asked.
“Oh all of twenty feet but he will add another hundred to it. You can bet your life on that when asked by the reporters for this weeks paper.”
“He usually comes around by now, my da will be all right won’t he?” The teenager, the youngest one in the group sounded anxious as he hovered about them.
“He will in a minute, give us some room Tommy, step back.”
With that the tallest two men in the group grabbed our failed hero; unzipped some of the dry suit, then as they held him by his boots dangled him upside down,
The whoosh of water was spectacular and the coughing of the guy in the suit was continuous. They simply looked at one another and dropped him to the ground where he dragged himself into an upward position and said, “Only for those two gobshites in the boat, I would have been fine.”
With a toss of their heads all agreed “it is time for a pint,” they left us to it.
I am rearranging my garden, out of necessity and because of these bothersome days where we are confined to close quarters. And I decided to post this brief post specifically to let Maxwellthedog know that we are working to get it done and some tomatoes growing asap! But as you may notice I have some help (there is four of us living in the house) so all is not lost.
I had taken cuttings of the blackcurrant bush last year, so it will be replanted in a suitable spot.
As you can see the canine help were their usual supportive selves, Belle and Brook had retired to the yard to get the most sun.
I am interested in learning if anyone has a green house and what they recommend I plant in it, remembering that Ireland is not the hotest place on the planet.