Category Archives: Beauty
A Niall’s-eye view of Hangzhou: Mystical, dreamy and alluring
Filed under Beauty, China, Flowers, Gardening, Hangzhou, Inspirational, Photography, Travel
A game of pirouettes and that dazzling ‘back-heel flick’
That time of the year again…. 6 Nations Rugby Championship time!!
The best time of the year has arrived – Six nations rugby championships
Wales versus Ireland at Cardiff Arms Park has to be one of the most wonderfully entertaining matches I’ve ever seen: 277 tackles!!!… But what about Ireland winger Simon Zebo’s extraordinary back-heel flick? Sheer magic!
Ireland winger Simon Zebo’s dazzling ‘back-heel flick’
Oh… and the best bit? Wales 22 : Ireland 30 .
Irish Winter Scenes
Outside, the clinging chill of an Irish winter.
Inside, the warmth of an Irish winter’s hearth.
Filed under Beauty, Ireland, Moorefield, Photography, Winter
‘The Tiger’, by William Blake
The Tiger
Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?
And what shoulder and what art
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand and what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? What dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw down their spears,
And water’d heaven with their tears,
Did He smile His work to see?
Did He who made the lamb make thee?
Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
William Blake
Filed under Beauty, Inspirational, Niallism, Poetry
Where Mum and Dad’s Journey Finally Ends and Sweet Eternity Begins
Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep
Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the soft star-shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there; I did not die.
Mary Frye (1932)
Filed under Beauty, Deansgrange Cemetery, Kath Byrne, Kathryn O'Reilly, Liam O'Reilly, Obituary, Poetry
Queen Muffin II – The World’s Most Beautiful Dog
Wrapped in Gold
No matter driving rain, howling gale, bitter cold, or blazing sun, walking the length of Dun Laoghaire Pier I am conscious no one values the very unique brilliance of my thoughts and words as much as Muffin does. Behaves gracefully in all situations and circumstances. She never asks why, just sniffs the ground to keep abreast of where we are, wags her tail and pulls forward. Wonderful!
“…beauty without vanity, strength without insolence, courage without ferocity; and all the virtues of man without his vices.“
– Lord Byron, ‘Epitaph to a Dog’ (1808)
‘He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven’ by William Butler Yeats
He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven
“Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.”
William Butler Yeats
Summer Garden Splendour In Ireland – Restoring The Five Senses
Listen to the silence of this truly beautiful garden in the early evening where the sun strokes everything with a hue of gold.
Pause and listen.
The silence, only enhanced by the humming of bees and the chirping of birds, will lead you to close your eyes and feel the magic.
A gentle breeze.
Breath in the delicate sweet scents drifting in the air.
Healing.
A garden of free thoughts, quiet contemplation, joyful anticipation and beautiful dreams: The birds and the bees, the flowers and the trees, the soil and the sky.
To cultivate a garden is to cultivate a soul.
My Mother’s garden.
The Fireplace: The heart of the home
Outside yields to Winter’s evening grip.
To the right, a steaming mug of tea; to the left, the Sunday newspapers.
Behind me, the wall mirror, gold, spreading wide, reflecting the reflected, flickering shadows playing the end of the day.
In front of me, the Fireplace; a framed oil of shaded Capri on a hot summer’s day mounted above a mantelpiece counted with decorative jugs, and that plate.
Coals in the fire hug together keeping the flame aglow: deep-burning, unquenchable.
The spluttering logs near enough to keep each other warm and far enough apart for breathing room
More shimmers of light on the old brass handled assortment of fender, poker, tongs, shovel and brush.
The curtains are drawn. An evening beside the radiant fireplace beckons. The all-calming quiet stillness of the flames: Mesmerised.
The simplicity of the fire-side chat: “Blow on the coal to keep it alive”.
Any one who knows what the worth of family affection is knows there is no greater happiness than spending evenings by the fireplace: Snug.
Filed under Beauty, Home, Love, Moorefield, Proverb
