All year the flax-dam festered in the heartOf the townland; green and heavy headedFlax had rotted there, weighted down by huge sods.Daily it sweltered in the punishing sun.Bubbles gargled delicately, bluebottlesWove a strong gauze of sound around the smell.There were dragonflies, spotted butterflies,But best of all was the warm thick slobberOf frogspawn that grew like clotted waterIn the shade of the banks. Here, every springI would fill jampotfuls of the jelliedSpecks to… Read More

This is the solstice, the still point of the sun, its cusp and midnight, the year’s threshold and unlocking, where the past lets go of and becomes the future; the place of caught breath, the door of a vanished house left ajar… Margaret Atwood

I’m getting ready for some early season bass fishing on the fly. It’s still very early for the Wexford coast but it’s always the same at this time of year, you just want to get out there and the seatrout mullet and bass are all running the estuaries more and more regularly now as the days lengthen towards early Spring. Last weekend William and I saw lots of moving fish and the… Read More