Irish winters are dull and dreary. For days, nay weeks, at a time the sky is laden with low-lying grey clouds which seem to sit just above the hills and fields. The air is cold, damp, disheartening, sucking energy and enthusiasm from our souls.
But every so often, the sun breaks through. There's a special quality to this winter light, coming from a sun that's low in the sky, that's different from any other time of year.
Sometimes it's so beautiful and unexpected that it stops me in my tracks. I come to a fork in the road. A shimmer of light glimpsed on the waves sees me turning right, driving a little further, hoping against hope that I'll be in time to capture the magic before the clouds gather in. I catch it and my heart sings.
At home, the winter sun weaves its magic, creeping through the windows and transforming the familiar into something new. More moments like these and I could learn to love the winter.