Reclaiming the Garden

Armchair gardening

I've been away from here for so long that I've a lot of catching up to do. But seeing as it's November,  the month when writers and  bloggers are typing their fingers to the bone,  I've decided to see if I can maybe, just maybe, write a post every day, and finally put all those half composed thoughts and waiting photographs where they belong.
Although it seems a long time ago now, memories of the Summer of 2013 will linger. It was the perfect summer, full of warm sunny days, when all sorts of records were broken for the warmest, driest, sunniest summer in years.
For us, it was also the summer of the garden.
I've always been an armchair gardener, with dreams of a wonderful cottage garden but no desire to do any hard work to achieve it.

Toffee surveys the improvements

A combination of miserable wet summers and a lack of enthusiasm for embarking on outdoor projects unless the weather is perfect, meant that our garden had become seriously neglected and overgrown.
Think jungle without the tropical climate.
At  one stage, I dared to suggest that perhaps we'd need to get 'help' in order to reclaim it. This was just the sort of challenge that my husband needed, and, with the surprisingly willing assistance of the teenager who had finished his exams, he set to ensuring that I'd eat my words.
First, I  had to accept that we were never going to have a cottage border and that the weeds were always going to win. Out went all the plants except the forsythia, down went black matting and gravel.
Colour could be provided by plants in pots, containers, boxes.
Then, the piece de resistance, which strangely enough was the part of the project which captured our son's imagination and made him a willing worker,  a corner arbour.

Newly erected arbour

We first saw one in the showroom of B&Q in Newry, just across the border, and after a few days deliberation, decided that we must have one. But getting it proved more difficult that we'd imagined.
We discovered that we had missed out on buying the last one in the Newry store and they didn't know when they'd get another one in. I phoned around all the stores in Northern Ireland and it was the same story.  Frustratingly, there was no shortage of arbours from several DIY stores and even supermarkets for gardeners living in the UK, but Irish gardeners, were, it seemed, out of luck unless they  had the budget for a bespoke creation. I told a friend about the difficulty we were  having and she suggested I'd try B&Q in Dublin. I'd forgotten that they had stores in the Irish Republic, and one phone call later and the arbour was ordered. Even better there was a sale on.

The finished product - painted

Once it was delivered a few days later, husband and son set about erecting and then painting it. It looks even better than we had hoped and has proven a great addition to our garden.

Me time

When the weather was good, I liked to sit out with a cup of tea and read. Most mornings during the summer, I took my breakfast outside and enjoyed a few minutes tranquility before heading for work.

Arbour with a view

Even now when the weather is colder, it's a good spot to sit, sheltered from the wind, and watch the pets.

Inspiration

And best of all, I've now got the enthusiasm to do some gardening even when the weather's not perfect.
When I was on holidays last week, I planted lots of daffodils in containers and am looking forward to seeing them bloom in spring.

Time to Remember

It's been a while. I thought that when the balmy  days of our wonderful summer ended,  I'd find time to sit down and share some words and  photos from this corner of Ireland.

But news came which made my heart heavy. A friend, who had fought bravely with cancer,  wrote a farewell message that her time was limited. As I grappled with that sad news, and struggled with words to express my feelings, an old school friend also died.  Both women left heartbroken families and friends. Both, I think, would have been surprised by the outpouring of grief which their deaths caused, demonstrating how they had touched the hearts of many.

Suddenly, I found myself thinking about death in a way I hadn't previously.  Although I  lost both my parents at a relatively young age,  the death of a parent is something which we sadly expect to  happen in the natural cycle of life.  I took inspiration from their lives and hope that they would be proud of the life I have carved out.
I missed them most when my son was born, sad that they never saw their grandson,  sad that he never got to listen to my father telling stories or taste my mother's delicious home baking.  Now, when I work in the garden, bake bread, or put seed out for the wild birds in winter, I  think of them doing similar everyday tasks, of a circle continuing.

However,  when a contemporary is taken from this world, with so much of their lives ahead of them, it stops you in your tracks. I still consider myself 'young', take it for granted that I'll have many years ahead of me. But, unless I'm to receive the President's cheque, the reality is I've more of my life behind me than in front of me. It's a sobering thought as there are still so many things that I want to do, so many places I want to visit, so many books I want to read. Most of all, however, I want to see my son grow up,  find his place in the world, and hopefully fall in love and have children.  He's nearly as old as I was when my mother died and will be heading to college next year, so I feel I have at least set him on the road to adulthood,  hopefully well equipped for whatever life throws his way.
I've also resolved to pick up the phone, type that email or send that card to friends that I mightn't have been  in touch with as regularly as I should be.
For who knows who next will 'fall in love with death in October coloured weather'.

A Parting Gift

Summer returned yesterday and bestowed on us the gift of a pet day, as my mother used to call an unseasonably warm day which came when we had given up on summer.
It was a day for basking in the warming rays of the sun, for sitting in the garden, for drying clothes, for being grateful for just  one more good day before autumn's chill takes hold of the land and our hearts.

The butterflies  reappeared,  with Small Tortoiseshells joining the busy bees as they feasted on the sedum and daisies beside the front door.

A Speckled Wood fluttered in the garden hedge and rested on a leaf just long enough for me to click the shutter. And then it was off.

I've been a bit bee-hind with blogging of late,  not sure where to land, as I flutter from one social medium to the next. I'm still striving to find a voice, to find a balance between words and images, between reportage and personal disclosures.

Remembering That Summer of 2013

The long warm carefree days of summer are fading into memory, into folk memory, as this will be remembered in Ireland as 'The Summer of 2013', the summer  of the first heatwave of the 21st century.

And, before I pull out the hats and scarves, woolen jumpers and warm boots, and embrace autumn, I want to share some memories of summer in these parts.

It was a fantastic summer for the outdoors. For once, anyone planning an event, from a family barbecue to a community festival, could do so safe in the knowledge that the weather would be good and it wouldn't rain.

Louth County Agricultural Show had a new venue  in the beautiful setting of Bellurgan Park. It was very well attended with lots to see,  including brass bands, cattle, sheep, alpacas, horses, dogs, ducks, hens and even a pet sheep on a lead.

There were lots of other festivals as the summer progressed, although the weather was so good that I missed some as I preferred to stay at home in our newly restored garden (and that's a story for another post)

The great Celtic legend of An Tain Bo Chuilgne or the Cattle Raid of Cooley was enacted in a colourful pageant at Dundalk's Market Square as part of the Tain Walk which  traced the march of Queen Meabh's Army.

Earlier This Summer ....

A very belated post about our holiday earlier this summer, just before the heatwave,  in north Antrim.
It was the first time in several years that we didn't go abroad and also the first time that Fudge, our three  year old Labrador, went on holidays with us.

Do you have a favourite place to go? A place which never disappoints?  A place which takes your breath away and leaves you feeling refreshed? That place for us is Ballycastle, a small seaside village with a beautiful beach and stunning views to Rathlin Island and the Scottish coast.

It's a place rich in history and legend, one of which, The Children of Lir, is recalled in this
elegant piece of public art. I love how the swans, Fionnuala and her brothers, appear to fly over Fair Head.

I love walking along the strand, catching glimpses of Rathlin Island or looking back at the stunning Antrim coast.

Away from the seafront, the village is quite charming and manages to cater for tourists without losing its character.

We travelled over the Rathlin Island for the first time this year - and thanks to Fudge we got talking to lots of other passengers on the ferry. Aren't dogs just the best conversation openers?

The only inhabited island off the coast of Northern Ireland, Rathlin has a small community of around 100 people which increases during the summer season.

The island has three lighthouses. It was near to this one, the East Lighthouse, that Marconi sent his first telegraph messages.

The dramatic coastline is home to thousands of seabirds, including puffins, and a colony of seals.
We had lunch at McCuaig's Bar, the island's only pub, and I had the tastiest panini outside of Italy!
We then walked around the bay to see the seals.

The old Manor House is now run by the National Trust and serves as accommodation for visitors. While we didn't stay overnight on the island, we enjoyed a cup of tea on the lawn outside the house.

Although the north Antrim coast is most famous for the Giant's Causeway, we've seen it so many times that we decided to give it a miss. Instead we visited the ruins of Dunluce Castle, where, according to legend, the kitchen, cooks, pots and pans, went crashing into the sea during a terrible storm.

We stopped off and enjoyed the tranquility of the tiny Ballintoy Harbour.

We walked along the magnificent White Park Bay, marvelling at the crashing waves, so big compared to  the ones that lap our secluded coast.

We drove down the coast to the pretty village of Cushendun and clamoured down to its 'Pudding Stone' caves.

Gaelic culture is alive and well in Cushendall in the heart of The Glens with its old watch tower.

The sun reappeared by the time we got to Carnlough with its quaint harbor

At the end of each day's exploring, we were glad to go back to the delightful cottage we had rented and Fudge made himself at home in front of the fire.