I look at the plants and shrubs fading, scraggy now at the end of August. I think how beautiful they were over the summer – their blooms, their leaves flourishing. The joy they brought to me.
My lovely neighbours are moving back to England. The removers will do it in two hours. I’m not there to see them off.
On Inis Oírr I saw a blue jellyfish called, “sailor on the wind.” It’s like a mussel with a fin.
I’m wrapping up, for the last time this year, my garden parasol. Picking up nasturtium pods, saving seeds for spring.
Are we just “sailors on the wind,” being carried where more mighty forces take us?
