THE JOURNAL

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A Cow With Red Tape on Her Tail.

21 March Saturday I love the gate closest to the end of the boreen. It has constructed to favour the uphill slope of the land.     22 March Sunday I met Breda and Margo up at the Boulders at 11. We each traveled in our own cars and we did not venture near to […]

Nest Building

6 March Friday We organized the bags around our feet as the bus closed its doors and drove off. At that exact moment, a woman greeted us with a hearty roar. She shouted, “You’re back, then? Have you been away to London again?” I looked up in confusion. The woman was no one I knew. […]

The Bee Hive

24 January Friday There was a gate. Was there a gate? Now there is no gate. Maybe there never was a gate? I see a stone wall cleared of any growth. Has the wall been recently rebuilt to compensate for a place where a gate had been? Or was the hedge covering the wall simply […]

He Has Been Knitting His Own Cardigan.

15 January Wednesday A courier rang and announced that he was up at the farm. He refused to drive down the boreen. He had a parcel to deliver and it needed a signature. He claimed that he could not and he would not leave it at the shop in the village. I explained that the […]

Dirty Carrots + Small Potatoes

6 January Monday Today is Women’s Christmas. Little Christmas. Nollaig na mBan. Twelfth Night. Epiphany. Today is the last day of Christmas. The tradition is that all the decorations and signs of the holiday must come down and be put away before the day is over. The tree. The wreath. The cards. The lights. Everything […]

He Is Not Keen On Caps.

  4 January Saturday Birds are crashing into the windows every day. I think they think it is spring because the days are so mild and things that should not be growing are growing. Most of them fly off but sometimes they knock themselves out when they hit the glass. This afternoon I heard a […]

Seven Thirty.

19 December Thursday The fence has fallen down. It has been propped up many times, first from one side and then from the other side.  I think this is the end. The posts are rotten from the bottom up. The rain and the mud have won. The wild strong winds of last night were the […]

You Can’t Go Near It For The Weather.

3 December Tuesday I found the dead mouse. Most of the stench had already evaporated. It was not the burning of the candle that eliminated the smell. It was the drying out of the corpse. I opened a box containing our small concertina After Brancusi. Dozens of enormous bluebottle flies came flying out smashing into […]

It’s a Tonic.

7 November Thursday The winds have been fierce. Leaves are blowing down from any tree that still has leaves. They blow into the kitchen each time the door is opened. I swept them up and then I swept them up again and now I have ceased sweeping. There are leaves on the floor. Sometimes there […]

Disembodied Hands

14 October Monday The announcement is at the entrance to the little park at the Old Bridge. THE FAMILY THAT PRAY TOGETHER STAY TOGETHER is freshly re-painted every year. I love the disembodied hands. The fingers made of concrete get thicker and more stubby looking with each new coat of paint. The Virgin and her […]