Life and Poetry

It is hot and sticky today--as it has been since I returned from cool and windy Ireland. I am not used to this weather and thus find myself a lot more uncomfortable than I would normally be in August. The sky, however, is a mass of interesting cloud formations. I have also noticed the abundant variety of trees in our area--maple, oak, cherry, dogwood, birch and ash. Everything is flowering; crimson and yellow flowers dot the roadsides and front yard gardens.

I am back to work this week. Meanwhile I'm thinking of how to internalize what I learned this summer so the writing continues. For every day I don't write, it takes three days to get back to the writing--Geraldine told me this and it is true. I have taken a break since I returned home, concentrating on the mundane and the important--paying bills, cleaning, renewing my contacts with friends and family. Goals were developed this summer. I hope to make them as much a part of my life as work and relationships.

I went to Ikea for the first time today--not a literary experience but certainly an interesting one. It's rather overwhelming--huge and filled with colors, textures and choices. Probably the best part of the experience was dinner at a random Italian restaurant* where I had the second best Puttanesca sauce of my life--it was subtle and redolent with flavor. Having seen the film Julia and Julie this week, I realize that I am a bit of a "foodie" though French food is way too rich for my tastes. Good food can be like music or poetry--layers of flavor that are revealed slowly. So--I will write Puttanesca this week--tangy, with undertones of saltiness, the texture of whole tomatoes, capers, onions, and Kalamata olives.

*The name of this restaurant will be revealed to anyone who asks.

Thatched House on Inishmore

Dun Aonghasa --A 3,000 year old fort on Inishmore

Reality Sets In

I had mountains of mail awaiting me. Between the post office, the grocery store, phone messages, checking in with the family, and numerous bills to be paid, I felt as if I was rudely thrust back into the world. I'm trying to keep the feeling that was so prevalent during my time in Ireland--a reverence for the natural world, music, conversation, and culture. Writing was my reason for being in Ireland and what I learned about the culture of the country, flora, people and art is more than I can begin to put into words.

I had promised postings of various pictures but slow and unpredictable internet coverage made that impossible. I will try to post some of my many experiences--in photos.

Geraldine Mills, Irish Poet and Writer

Goats on Inishmore!