Landscape


A Timber Lifeline Defeats an Oil Pipeline


  With over 50 exhibitions to his credit over the past quarter century as well as awards, residencies and lecturing, Peter Von Tiesenhausan is one of Canada’s best known artists.  Also a sculptor, video and performance artist, Peter’s canvas is wide and though he does not...

The Grand-duc d’Europe


      In August 1999, there was a total eclipse of the sun.  Living  in the Mardyke area of Cork city between the River Lee and the University, I was waiting for the phenomenon.  A few moments before the appointed time, early afternoon, it...

Walking, Bereaved, in Grunewald


Bereaved, Walking in Grunewald It was snowing when he died. Falling on the trees outside the window, on every leaf and bare branch in the forest of Grunewald “….falling faintly upon the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all...

The Eight Weeks of Christmas: The Fox and the Sloth.


I love the wonderful, dead quiet days immediately after Christmas, when a wine bottle and a chocolate box are always open, the house is warm and glowing with lights on greenery and sometimes it even snows to add to the silence.   I have described...

Eight Weeks of Christmas 2. Martinmas November 11th.


  Martinmas and Armistice Day. Martinmas was considered the first day of Winter, and meteorologically “if the geese at Martin’s Day stand on ice, they will walk on mud at Christmas.” There is word of a Polar Vortex which is about to hit the East...

Barrow Mouse


  Working in the garden I am not alone.  Pollen-bummed bees back out of flower mouths in haste to get to the next bloom complaining loudly I block their flight path.  A blackbird follows me around, tweeting all his friends that this is HIS freshly-turned long-...

Cherries, Berries and Roger Medearis’ Granny


    This is not me, it is Roger Medearis’ Granny, but this is how I see myself, ageing amongst fruit and flowers, beside field and water in the sound of church bells.  Roger Medearis called his painting “Godly Susan” because his Granny was.  (I...

A Year in Brocante 7: My Kitchen Garden


  Yesterday morning at nine o’clock I met Himself in the hall, somnambulant to breakfast in white piqué honeycomb cotton.  “You’ve heard of golf widows….well, I’m a brocante widower” he grumbled. “Bye” ses I, and I out the door to Duingt, the next village down...

Blackbird


    Mr Blackbird he sing so sweet. He sing so sweet the daisies dance, Wisteria sway Dandelions glide their down up and down to his melody He make sun more golden, sky more blue, air so fine it tinkle like gin. He warn me...