Sunday afternoon…picking flowers in the gardens.
This feels like the full, quiet days before giving birth…
The force of the full moon can still be felt in the stillness of the late afternoon air.
There is an otherworldly feel to it all… Time appears to stand very still.
Bees continue in a frenzy of work on this side of the Solstice.
I have often felt a slowness as time ascends towards Midsummer…it’s as though Mother Earth is not yet ready to let go…
Evenings merge with night as daylight seems eternal in the west of Ireland…Ox-Eye Daisies reach up toward the sun, basking in summer.
Returning from Belfast and the soft hum of the city to this place of quiet solitude, this otherworldly paradise of sights and scents…
Far back from the lane, this little cottage nestles into silence, a place of tranquil tolerance, a timeless existence at midsummer.
Wood Pigeon and Cuckoo call a mantra of hypnotic sounds…a lazy Sunday afternoon…
Ground Elder, the bane of many gardeners, is allowed her magnificence here, frothy lace adorning a mantle of green. 
Ragged Robin dances by the wheels of an old bike.
Himalayan Musk stands sturdy by the wooden porch.
Astrantia unfolds it’s papery petals in an unending delight of pinky white and green.
Bees delight in Jacob’s Ladder as it ascends to heaven…
And blue Jacob’s Ladder adorns the kitchen table in a cottage lost in time…
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