What's Rare Is Wonderful

There's a saying is Irish 'An rud is annamh is iontach' which mean's what's rare is wonderful.
That is certainly the case with snow.
We don't get much snow. Some winters can pass with scarcely a snow shower and we're still talking about the winter of 2010 when it snowed for most of December and the country almost ground to a halt - and I'm not just speaking figuratively as local authorities ran out of salt to grit the roads.
Anyway, the long and short of it is, snow is regarded as pretty special. Certainly by children and by adults like myself who see photo opportunities in every snowfall.
I couldn't believe my luck when it started to snow this afternoon as I had finished work early. That meant I had time to visit the pretty Ice House Hill Park to get some photos before picking my son up from collage.

Naturally enough, I wasn't the only one taking photographs.

Keeping Warm and Making Soup

January. The warm glow of Christmas is a distant memory. That wonderful festival which brings light to the darkest days is over for another year. And it will be some time before spring arrives. There will be cold wet days and nights, many weeks of darkness, and colds and sniffles to survive, before we feel the warmth of the sun on our faces.
There's not much to be said it January's favour. True, it's the start of another year, a time for looking forward, for planning, for hoping, for resolutions and good intentions.
But, mostly it's cold and miserable. Money is short after Christmas expenditure and spring, let alone summer, seems a long way away.

There's a bonus, however, for lazy photographers like me who are adverse to setting their alarm clocks earlier than absolutely necessary. The late sunrise means I've been able to see some wonderful skies although rushing to work means I can't capture them apart from a quick snap taken across the fields before de-icing the car on a frost morning.

For me, January is all about keeping warm. Hibernating. It's about staying indoors in front of a warm log fire, cosying up with a book and a glass of red wine. Our cat Toffee has the right idea. He picks his spot on a favourite chair and sleeps for hours.
I also like to cook warming food for my family, traditional dishes likes stews, casseroles and soups.
One of my favourite soups is easy to make from store cupboard ingredients and is ready is around half an hour.
It's tasty and its Mediterranean flavours remind me of holidays to Italy, eating delicious simple food in small trattorias with red and white checkered table cloths.

What You Need:
A little olive oil
One onion, finely chopped
One clove of garlic, crushed
One tin of chopped tomatoes
One tin of mixed beans
One litre chicken stock (I use a Knorr stockpot)
A good pinch of mixed herbs
Some broken lengths of spaghetti or pasta shapes for soup
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
Grated parmesan to serve

Fry the onion and garlic in the olive oil in a saucepan until soft and translucent. Add the hot stock, the tomatoes, beans, mixed herbs and seasoning. Bring to the boil, turn down the heat and simmer for 20 minutes. Add the pasta and cook for a further 10 minutes or until the pasta is cooked. Serve with grated parmesan. It's also delicious with a handful of baby spinach leaves or fresh basil added at the end.

Winter Light

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.

Seduced By Light

It was the late afternoon winter  sun that did it. The ordinary task of a trip to the clothesline was transformed by rays of sunshine into a special moment. Golden light shone through the ivy.

I swapped the laundry basket for my camera, washing forgotten.

Enchanted by this gift of winter light, I followed the beams through the garden, watched as they set the ash on fire, illuminated the last leaves on the apple tree, and put a spotlight on the holly branches.

Then, as a final reward, I spied a little warbler providing evensong among the haws.

The Seasons Meet

It's beginning to look like spring although it still feels like winter.
The snow lingers  on the mountain tops while the spring flowers finally burst into bloom.

March was  a truly horrible month with most unseasonable weather which caused dreadful problems  for farmers who lost flocks of sheep and new born lambs and claimed the lives of poor abandoned horses on the mountains.  Much as I love the snow, I don't want it when it's supposed to be spring and when it brings such hardship.
However, as April arrived, still cold but bright and sunny, I couldn't resist the beauty of the snow clad peaks and set Saturday afternoon aside for an outing with himself and the dog.
We drove across the Cooley Mountains and into Omeath with stunning views across Carlingford Lough to the majestic Mountains of Mourne.

We stopped in Omeath and walked along the shore, braving the crisp sea breeze to enjoy the view of Warrenpoint and The Mournes across the Lough.

I just love this Georgian  house, right  on the shore. What fantastic views the owners must enjoy as they look out.

We continued to Carlingford, which has become a popular destination with tourists from Dublin and Belfast as well as abroad.

We stopped off at the antique shop.

And the new craft shop.

My companions waited patiently.

Hot chocolate to finish the outing

The No Show Snow

It's been a wee while since I posted here.  I thought I'd be sharing images of the Irish countryside covered by a blanket of snow, but it wasn't to be. There was  snow to the north, south, west, and if you crossed the Irish Sea, to the east of  us but none here. We live close to the shore, below the ' snow line'. While the hills were covered with snow, we got rain, sleet, more rain, and cold, cold days and nights.
Laid low by a virus, I snuggled under the blankets, thankful that I didn't have to venture outside, guilty
that I was leaving colleagues in the lurch.  Days flitted by in fitful sleep and hours of reading - was it me who was fevered or Pi Patel cast adrift with a tiger for company?
I emerged to cold days and laden skies.  It seemed foolish to drive to the mountains in search of snow and I hoped that further falls would bring the whiteness down to the sea. Instead the rain came again, and I gave  up on my winter day dreams and bought some spring  from the supermarket shelves.

A Touch of Frost

Jack Frost came to visit last night, draping his icy fingers across the countryside. With a heavy touch, he transformed the fields and ditches, roads and gardens, into a winter wonderland. Not quite as wondrous as snow but enough to make it fell and look like winter.

 Haws and berries were turned into Christmas decorations - a tad early perhaps but why shouldn't Mother Nature join the festive rush?

 

Leaves were etched with tiny ice crystals

and brambles frozen where they grew

                                                       Icy buds became Murano glass

                        I  swear I heard the prune leaves fall with a sigh on the frozen grass below.