Another day at the screen and late to the Glen. I moseyed over Eastwards to the Fleischmann place and started looking at the walls and the trees and the trees in the walls and the clearings of the walls, pondering PtW and his obsession to preserve the man made environment at the expense of the natural one …..and I see the liveliness and architecture of the growing and the green reaching, dangling, holding, forming shapes in space.
I see the ivy clad sentinels. I pass the birch and take today’s snaps of the oyster mushroom, now withdrawing, concentrating inward into itself, curling back.
I pass walkers with dogs, talking of dogs, I catch snippets of Neesha, the golden retriever in the news that was carried down emaciated from the Wicklow Mountains on the back of her rescuer, and into the arms of her family 2 weeks gone. Another passing group share a tale of the waggy, licky mongrel (which one? I wonder, of the 3 that pass, accompanied by their 3 humans ), the one that jumps into the bed each night, I know other canine stories will take them along the path on this chilly pre-snow eve.
Meanwhile N and I have been proceeding with the mission to influence policy in the Glen .. I hear a local politician speaking of a local area development plan for the Glen …that d word out of the mouth of a politician sends shivers…