its after 7 and dusk is falling as I enter the Glen. The air is moist and chill, more so here in the valley. I take the path west before the bridges, thinking i will do a loop clockwise for a change, and get the most of the dying light. Now that I know there is a colony I see the silhouettes of magpies roosting in the tree tops along the path. I am caught by the snake form of the white stripe wall, here so long and so recently made to glow in the dark, its form is really animate in night light on approach and passing, here too are the hollow sounds of underground waterways. I feel the hollowness here of the Glen under ground, in cellars and sewers and drains. There are a few spots where the echo is very present, also by the steps to the upper field. I am reminded again of the Silver springs, so much water trickles down in rivulets across the north eastern hill of Cork harbour.
Moving away from the stripe, westwards, I find I am pulled back, intending to record the hollow sounds of water that still resonate as I walk, and I have that strange sensing of a form, not quite visible in the gloaming, but I am relieved when the blurring materialises into M the dancer and Corey her little white cloud companion. We stop and talk then walk westwards together and exit at Blackpool. We promise to do a night walk together one of these days.
John Feehan on lesser Celendine