Capturing the world with Photography, Painting and Drawing

Images of Summer

Images of Summer 2018 : Following the Sunset, County Kerry, Ireland


Images of Summer 2018 : Down in the Barley

Images of Summer Down in the Barley
Nigel Borrington 2018


Irish landscape photography , On Summer Hill, Poem By: John K Trainer

On summer hill
fading to black and white
Irish Landscape images
Nikon D700
Tamron 17mm lens
Nigel Borrington

On summer Hill
John K Trainer

The fragrance of a memory
From childhood long ago
I’m brought back
To a fenced in back yard
Crayola blue sky
Burnt umber ground
Islands of green and yellow grass
The scent of Summer Hill wafts
As the unseen is revealed
A dream remembered then forgotten
You say it didn’t happen
I recollect the aroma that says it did


After the wild fire, Littleton Bog, Country Tipperary : Capturing the Irish heat wave of July 2018

After the Wild fire
littleton bog, tipperary Nigel Borringtpon

The six week long heatwave that we are experiencing here in Ireland during June and July has brought with it some of the best summer weather many can remember, yet it has also at this stage created water shortages and with the ground being so dry we have also had many forest wild fires along with fires on the open bog lands.

I enjoyed capturing these pictures a lot! as the atmosphere on the bog was amazing, the smell of smoke and the cracking of still burning small fires, with dead wood smoking all around me, nothing but deep ash on the surface.

I took these pictures this morning, they show the results of a large wild fire on the bog lands at littleton, county tipperary. Most of the trees and heather have all been burnt, these fires are mostly just on the surface and when we see the return of some rain the environment will recover very quickly. The question is just when will we see our usual Irish summer return , with its rains at least once or twice a week ?


Capturing Ireland’s heatwave, July 10th 2018, The River Runs Dry, taken from a Poem by : Veronica Ellen

Irish summer 2018
The heatwave, the river runs dry
River Lingaun
County Kilkenny

The River Runs Dry

The river runs dry from mouth to stream
No rain from the sky, and all the land screams-
For nourishment, to save the dying crop
But God has no mercy and all the crops rot.

The heat strikes the fury, arouses the flame, sets the fire
Burns down the struggling trees, wealth an unrealized by flame.
burning bushes, so often unseen.

Weakens our roots, and their spirit is broken
Will it never rain again? , so many are hoping.


The River Runs Low, Bruce Hornsby and the Range, Album The Way It Is

The River Runs Low
Bruce Hornsby and the Range
Album The Way It Is

The rain held back again
Haven’t felt a drop since you went away
Outside of town, the hills are brown
I guess way out there you’d call ’em golden
Lines outside the welfare store
The clock is stopped at the bank next door
They yelled like hell when the boys left home
Now just like you, they’re all gone

The river runs low tonight
And eyes are closed on the waterline
The river runs low tonight
And you’re always drifting through my mind
The river runs low tonight
And nobody waits for the tide to rise
I’m gonna wait till you make
The river run high

Whoa-oh…Whoa, oooh…
The old man’s gettin’ on
Keeps the morning paper in his overcoat
It keeps him warm in the cold storm
And he told me today I look a little lonely
Up in the air they’re heading south
The sky is light to the west of town
With a little cash I could get around
You know I’d come out there and find you

Whoa…
The river runs low tonight
And eyes are closed on the waterline
The river runs low tonight
And you’re always drifting through my mind
The river runs low tonight
And nobody waits for the tide to rise
But I’m gonna wait till you make
The river run high

Whoa-oh…Whoa, oooh…Whoa-oh….

Up in the air they’re heading south
The sky is light to the west of town
With a little cash I could get around
You know I’d come out there and find you

Whoa…
The river runs low tonight
And eyes are closed on the waterline
The river runs low tonight
And you’re always drifting through my mind
The river runs low tonight
And nobody waits for the tide to rise
I’m gonna wait till you make
The river run high


Kilkenny Landscape Photography, Images of July 2018

Irish Landscape Images
County Kilkenny
Barley fields
July 3rd 2018
Nikon D700
Nigel Borrington

Irish Landscape Images
County Kilkenny
Barley fields
July 3rd 2018
Nikon D700
Nigel Borrington


Summer Heat Wave, In pictures ….

Irish landscape photography
County Kilkenny
The heat wave of 2018
Nigel Borrington

Ireland’s is currently in heat wave conditions with no big change on the horizon, so today I headed out for a walk and started to capture our local landscape in these conditions. Here in County Kilkenny we have not been affected quite as badly yet as in county Dublin but as you can see from these images the hedgerows and fields are starting to turn to a light brown and some of the trees are only just hanging on.


Summer Poems : Haymaking, By Edward Thomas

Summer Poems : Haymaking

By Edward Thomas

Aftear night’s thunder far away had rolled
The fiery day had a kernel sweet of cold,
And in the perfect blue the clouds uncurled,
Like the first gods before they made the world
And misery, swimming the stormless sea
In beauty and in divine gaiety.

The smooth white empty road was lightly strewn
With leaves—the holly’s Autumn falls in June—
And fir cones standing stiff up in the heat.
The mill-foot water tumbled white and lit
With tossing crystals, happier than any crowd
Of children pouring out of school aloud.

And in the little thickets where a sleeper
For ever might lie lost, the nettle-creeper
And garden warbler sang unceasingly;
While over them shrill shrieked in his fierce glee
The swift with wings and tail as sharp and narrow
As if the bow had flown off with the arrow.

Only the scent of woodbine and hay new-mown
Travelled the road. In the field sloping down,
Park-like, to where its willows showed the brook,
Haymakers rested. The tosser lay forsook
Out in the sun; and the long waggon stood
Without its team, it seemed it never would
Move from the shadow of that single yew.

The team, as still, until their task was due,
Beside the labourers enjoyed the shade
That three squat oaks mid-field together made
Upon a circle of grass and weed uncut,
And on the hollow, once a chalk-pit, but
Now brimmed with nut and elder-flower so clean.

The men leaned on their rakes, about to begin,
But still. And all were silent. All was old,
This morning time, with a great age untold,
Older than Clare and Cobbett, Morland and Crome,
Than, at the field’s far edge, the farmer’s home,
A white house crouched at the foot of a great tree.

Under the heavens that know not what years be
The men, the beasts, the trees, the implements
Uttered even what they will in times far hence—
All of us gone out of the reach of change—
Immortal in a picture of an old grange.


Images without words , Evening stars above the Macgillycuddy’s Reeks, County Kerry

Evening Stars above the Macgillycuddy’s Reeks
County Kerry
Ireland