It’s incredibly remote, wild, wet and windy. But I am cosy in my cottage studio with a roaring fire in the stove and mugs of tea constantly on the go.
There are lovely friendly artists staying in the other cottages, so far I’ve made two new friends.
I will post some images of work in progress once I get properly started. Lots of painting ideas and maybe a few poems to write too.
Standing at the open window
Of the train rushing through new terrain
Listening to the rhythmic pounding
Of the wheels on the shiny rails
~
Yes, I will, I do, I can
I see, I make, with love
Yes, I choose, I go, I try
To fly. I make a leap
~
Choosing the forward momentum
Denying the steel bars
In that cold and hungry
Prison cell of fear
~
No, to halting fearful saying
You’ve had your fill. It’s too late
No, to thinking it can’t work out
You’re too old, just be still
~
Even the old goose still makes
The journey South
She doesn’t wait
To grace your Christmas plate
~~~
I’m booked into the wonderful artist retreat (cottage 5 again woohoo) at CillRialaig in County Kerry for 8th January for two weeks. It will take me two days getting there on public transport, and I need to ship most of my materials in advance. I wish I found the planning stage easier, but once I’m there I’ll be there
Getting there
does the swallow
prepare for
her long flight
the night before
is the bear
aware of tomorrow
as she wakes
my brain leaps
in consternation
with calculations
of timetables
connections
arrivals departures
online booking apps
websites for overnights
advance preparations
ephemera
of getting there
from here
but once there
I’ll be there
with all of me
being simply
human
I can only
hope so
‘Old stick backs’
Monday morning, nearly Christmas
Sitting reading and drinking a first coffee by the stove
Just retrieved the hyacinths ‘forcing’, from the cupboard, in the yellow bowl
They always hold so much promise
At this, their etiolated stage
Like us, searching for the light
All the blue and yellow
Like a painting, perhaps I haven’t painted yet
💙💛
(Little painting above the door by Heidi Nguyen)
I am quite tempted to leave this year’s tree in its ‘naked’ state, a symbol of Winter’s rest and retreat rather than an allusion to all that glitter and gluttony of our often over-done festival time
But I expect in a few hours I will relent and look for the tangle of wires and bulbs and the dusty box of baubles in the store room
My gallery, Hambly&Hambly in Enniskillen, County Fermanagh, Northern Ireland, has a fabulous exhibition, HARK!
Celebrating the season with a beautiful selection of new works from me and of course many other brilliant artists from across the island of Ireland and further afield
To celebrate the season and to thank all my great followers, collectors and friends at Hambly&Hambly there is a very special offer available on these new works
The offer is to buy one of these two big pieces shown above (‘Tide’ and ‘Breathe’) at a special reduced seasonal price, and receive TWO of these smaller works below FREE as a gift and a thank you from us to you 🎄
Please contact Ciara Hambly at the gallery on
+44 7808 010327
Or email Ciara@hamblyandhambly.com
Power is out
Cell phone/ mobile will die soon!
So glad we have 3 stoves and plenty of firewood!
No pump though, so it’s only warm next to the fire! We have a solid fuel kitchen stove too, so we can cook on that – and a gas bottle and 2 rings as well. Luckier than most.
Stay safe and warm 🍀❄️
On the train from Abergavenny to Machynlleth
Two more poems, ‘Buddleia’ from another train journey
And ‘Pwll y wrach’ ( which means ‘witch’s pool)
bursting out bravely from crevices and chimney pots
round the rough edges of abandoned plots
of land behind razor wire and barbed wire
on bomb sites
round broken concrete bunkers and crumbling
wartime airstrips, army camps and waste dumps
sooty spaces and looted places
into all these the grey green leaves reach their arms
of new growth and so the buddleia bush embraces
debris and decay and deathly ancient traces
and stretches up her waving arms towards the blue blue sky
and without help or nurture or encouragement
attracts with her nectar the humble hope filled butterfly
‘pwll y wrach’
I read it in my book just now
‘Witch’s pool’
How evocative
Did she drown?
Herself
Or her cat
Perhaps
Or did she use
The glassy surface
To reflect
Her face
Or read her future
Or just wash her tired feet
I wrote this short piece when I read the place name ‘Pwll y wrach’ in Richard Gwyn’s marvelous book, ‘The Blue Tent’
(Cover image by Marc Jennings above)
The book is published by Parthian Books
Sun blushed leafless willows
Family
Such a lovely afternoon with family from Cardiff and Abergavenny
donegallizdoyle 