And we’re off – first stop Scotland
The land of golf, haggis, and men in kilts
some of my favourite Scots
and the late, great Robin Williams on Golf
(some profanity of course)
Our favourite road sign in Dublin
and some lovely Irishmen
and our favourite bus driver Stephen
After posting the latest chapters of the Tales yesterday, I was thinking that perhaps by now some of you may have guessed that my story of the lovely maiden of the mound is a take on the Gaelic legend of Oisin told from an entirely different perspective and with a few changes. Click on the stamp (by J.P. Lynch) to a very truncated version of the original tale.
Thank you for your support in the following and reading of my tales and for the very touching and positive responses!!
Niamh’s adventures are a travel through dreams and through time which seem to have taken on a life of their own from a head full of floating images,words and magical things, along with the daily distractions of being a visitor in a strange land ( this planet). These thoughts eventually connect to my fingers which can then never keep up on the keyboard but which I always hope “unjumble” it all. The tale will have a conclusion I promise.
the beginning of the journey
And Now On To
MM 26 with Leanne Cole and Laura Macky
I blew it this week as I wasn’t paying attention!! It was supposed to be monochrome colour!! nevertheless it is included:
For the latest MM I am presenting an image of a piece of sculpture my father did many years ago. Both my parents are gone, my mother the more recent. My father had been given the name of an Italian poet and was an artist and sculptor in his spare time and truly, a man of many talents. When I was quite young I remember him asking my mother to drop whatever she was doing and sit as he lovingly ran his hands over the beautiful contours of her face which were then born again out of the moist clay. Though the sculptures were of varied subjects my sister and I always chuckled because so many had a stamp of mom on them. So, she was definitely his celtic muse. I inherited this bust and it stands in my living room where the morning sun blesses it. It’s quite a classic piece so I used a layered texture to give it an older look.
Hatley Park Castle was designed in 1907 by the well known architect Sam MacLure for James Dunsmuir, son of the famous coal baron of Vancouver Island, Robert Dunsmuir. The last Dunsmuir grandchild, Dola, lived there for many years. She died under rather sad circumstances in 1966.
I never tire of the place and it’s a perfect photographic subject. Bring a lunch but hang onto it tightly. Woodland spirits like racoons and those more ephemeral, are about. Sometimes you may catch glimpses of other worlds as you wander the many, meandering paths. You can take a nap in the little grove by the stream but you must wake up shortly before the sun goes down and when the light is folding like a shutter. If the season is right, carry a dandelion puff and look through that. Try not to sneeze. You don’t want to scare away the ghosts.
sleeping sun by Nightwish
“Be hole, be dust, be dream, be wind
Be night, be dark, be wish, be mind,
Now slip, now slide, now move unseen,
Above, beneath, betwixt, between.- Neil Gaimon
the secret door
The lady in the garden
what light in yonder window
I do believe the lady in the garden is Dola Dunsmuir in happier times.
More Hatley Park:
Background music: Nightwish is a folk rock group from Finland. Many of their ballads have a dark or mythological theme.
(And a non monochrome post!!)
Count down to the trip begins!! So much still to do. I’m posting less but trying to keep up. 13 days to Edinburgh!! (first stop)
North Sea promenade on the Firth of Forth
Liffey River, Dublin
We’ve had a bit of cloud lately though still warm, so while I slowly pull last minute arrangements together for abroad and at home I know it’s coming!! I’ll be frantic in the last few days.
But there is still
sunrise over the selkirk estuary
a morning on the farm
Thetis Cove at sunset
And everything in between
Go view royal boomsticks
Ahhh Clive, a garden and a library and a glass of wine
PS: loosely quoted from Cicero and do note Robert Marsala’s wonderful book ( In a Different Light) at the bottom right. It’s an inspiration.