‘Tis April boy, ’tis April.

The words of the Bull McCabe come to mind as I start the 70th consecutive blog. Over 9000 visits to this site, from all over the world, yesterday from 10 different countries. Though I have no idea who you are, the only indication is the country of login, I do appreciate the interest and it shows the Irish are on the move.

Health update! I have found March to be a difficult month. Eating has become problematic with a build up of scar tissue. This was predicted last October by the surgeon whom I will be meeting mid-April. It doesn’t mean a return of the cancer but things get a bit more difficult before they get a bit better. Strangely I felt more energy last autumn than now but perhaps that isn’t real for the outdoor calls more now with bursts of sunlight and growth. A great blessing has been the fact that I got no set back this winter, have had top class care and stimulation and never felt in a low place that I couldn’t rise from. Valuing the positive; what I have in comparison to so many others and when I recall what I was going through this time last year is a great reality check.Anyway, enough talk about me, let’s talk about you, what do you think about me??!!! 

 The daffodils are so noticeably bright and defiant in the March winds and rain.  “Fair daffodils we weep to see you haste away so soon..” The end of March is a hard time. Paddy Kavanagh saw us ” raking the ashes in the old temple that must fall, we dare not leave it dark, unlovely, deserted….that old cranky spinster is dead. Who fed us cold flesh.” April is a cruel month as what is dying gives way to new life. And yet it does, we can see it with patience, “in the green meadows, the maiden of Spring is with child by the Holy Spirit.”

Yesterday we called to Patrick O Sullivan perched on the top of the Cliffs at Doon. Kathleen and Patrick do woodwork and planting projects at times. His awareness of the variety and gifts of life is inspiring. Land and sea, moonlight and sunlight, laughter and tears, growth and death are all faced up to and noticed by Patrick. He is continually remodelling his home where everyone is welcome and no one expected. 

 The carpenter of Doon sees like Kavanagh, “the primrose that has lighted me to heaven.”

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