‘The apple tree throws down its dead and we kneel, fools for its blackened, overripe flesh.’
When the sand draws you down to its grainy heart, you have to keep control of your feet, lift them, before they sink completely. This, I found out while walking on the beach at Ardmore with my husband and baby daughter. I was posing for a lighthearted picture and somehow my daughter’s buggy stayed firm, while the sand crept up over my ballet pumps.
A flurry of butterflies awaits us, as we prepare to make the most of a rare blue sky. The weather has been stubbornly grey recently, so here is a chance to show my little girl that life can have a shine all of its own.
Finding a blackbird chick in my garden seemed symbolic. It was the week before my daughter’s christening; she was napping and I had seized the time to wander on the grass. Wildlife often nestles at the edges of this vast stretch of green. I’ve seen frogs, rabbits and hedgehogs in the past. The chick was brown and fluffy and looked bigger than his parents. He had shiny black eyes and didn’t move as I squatted down beside him for a closer look. There is something so vulnerable and trusting about the young.