Climbing Croagh Patrick, the holy mountain of Mayo

Photos, for a change. Last weekend three old friends and I climbed Croagh Patrick, a mountain in County Mayo in the mid-west of Ireland. (Croagh is an anglicisation of cruach, Irish for stack.)

The Reek, as it’s also known, has a cone-shaped peak that dominates the surrounding skyline. You can see it in the distance here on the road to Westport town, our home base for the day.

Jumbling, tumbling

Between this blog and other active online haunts, I’ve been spreading my internet self a bit thin. But I’m a glutton for punishment, so I’ve started a Tumblr blog, provisionally titled Books & bits asthore.* So far it’s an erratic series of book excerpts, poems, and images from films.

Sentence first has been nominated in Macmillan Dictionary’s inaugural Love English Awards. You can vote for it, or for another language blog, on this page until 31 January. My expectations are non-existent, but I’m honoured to be in such great company, and I found a few new websites to explore. (Disclosure: I write for Macmillan Dictionary Blog.)

It’s a mild and sunny December day in the west of Ireland — Pseudocember, I’ve been calling it — and this is likely to be my last post before 2012. Thank you for your visits, comments, and innumerable kindnesses all year, and have a happy and peaceful Christmas.

moss on a wall in county Galway this morning

* I wrote about the Irish English word asthore here.

Walked and kept walking

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Walked and kept walking
till I saw turnstones
feeding in soft
sunlight falling
on an empty shore.
So I waited there.

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[This was originally a tweet in the heel of winter; it wasn’t meant to become a lazy poem. To make it up to you, there are more birds here.]

Winter colours

Ireland has had record low temperatures this winter. My corner, the mid-west, has been spared the worst, but we got our share of snow, ice, freezing fog, and biting Arctic winds. All the more reason for long rambling walks…

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White snow-creature

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Blue snow with tractor tracks

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Green field disappearing

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Robin redbreast

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Orange sky over Galway Bay, with Brent Geese

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If you’re in the mood for more, here are some from last winter, and here’s the photo archive.

Autumn haiku

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Wind whisks the sea white
Whipping sand at face and hands,
Turnstones circle low.

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The haiku is yesterday’s; the photo is from February 2009. I’ve shown gulls circling low because I don’t seem to have any photos of airborne turnstones.

[Edit: After reading the haiku on Twitter, Tom Guadagno sent me a link to this lovely video of turnstones and other birds on the Welsh coast.]

Feel free to add an autumn haiku in the comments section.

Amidst muck and mystery

On Twitter a few days ago, I posted a photo accompanied by a rhyming couplet. Michele of Divinipotent Daily guessed that there was more to the story, so I’ve added more couplets to make a simple poem – but without giving too much away. Because where would the mystery be then?

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Wanderers we numbered four,
Left the woods to roam the shore;
Splashy suds bespoke the tide –
A soundtrack for the countryside.

Grass and wildflowers led to stone,
Pointing to a place long known;
Nettles leant towards our knees,
Ivy crept from rocks to trees.

In we went, a-hunting mystery;
Muck we found, amidst the history.
Crumbling walls held musty air,
Held us rapt while we were there.

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[All comments are very welcome, as always; comments in poetic form are especially welcome.]

On a wing and a poem

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You may glare
And cry “Unfair!”
I do not care.
I will not share.

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A damselfly in no distress
Pauses now to take a rest.

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Pink-purple funnels,
A hovering visitor:
Summer encounter.

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[Previously: Garden haiku; more poetry.]