Capturing the world with Photography, Painting and Drawing

Posts tagged “irish landscape images

Friday Gallery : A Novembers afternoon at kells Priory, county Kilkenny …..


Images from County Kilkenny : Kells Priory in black and white


Monday Poetry, Ruins – LJ Chaplin Mar 2015

Kilkenny Landscape
Ruins
Nigel Borrington

Ruins

Dust and rubble settle at my feet,
A chaotic collapse
Inside myself that I could never
Have imagined,
The foundations are shaken,
The cracks began to show,
And piece by piece
It all spectacularly fell apart,
Nothing to hold on to,
Nothing to steady myself with
As it all crashed and burned,
Leaving me surrounded by the ruins
Of a place that took years to build
And seconds to destroy.

LJ Chaplin Mar 2015


Irish Landscape Images, Tramore Beach, County Waterford 2018

Irish landscape images Tramore beach
county Waterford Nigel Borrington


Snow and more Snow ! This weeks weather in Ireland …….

Irish Landscapes
Nier Valley
County Waterford
Nigel Borrington

This winter here in Ireland has been more cold and wet than dominated by ice and snow , yet we have had more short spells of icy conditions than normal.

Now almost at the end of the winter, according to both the met office in Ireland and the UK we are about to experience our coldest week for many years. The daytime temperatures will have to fight to get over -1oc . with some 25cm of snow predicted from Tuesday evening until Saturday. The following weekend looks like bringing warmer weather back and a return of the spring, these kind of cold fronts in the weather can however end up sticking around for longer than expected.

Keep Warm everyone get lots of food in and fuel for the fire and enjoy what could be the last blast of this winter 🙂 Here comes the Beast from the east.

Snow in the Irish landscape

Snow on Snow
St Mary’s church
County Carlow
Irish Landscape Photography : Nigel Borrington

The Snow Man
Nigel Borrington


Irish Landscape Images : The Hell Fire Club, Mount Pelier Hill

The Hell Fire Club
Mount Pelier Hill
County Dublin, Ireland
Irish Landscape Images
Nigel Borrington 2018

The Hell Fire Club on Mount Pelier Hill
William Conolly’s Hunting Lodge

The building now known as the Hell Fire Club was built around 1725 as a hunting lodge by William Conolly, the Speaker of the Irish House of Commons. It was named Mount Pelier by Conolly but over the years has also been known as “The Haunted House”, “The Shooting Lodge”, “The Kennel”, and “Conolly’s Folly”. It was one of several exclusive establishments using the name Hellfire Club that existed in Britain and Ireland in the 18th century.

While the building has a rough appearance today, the architecture is of a Palladian design. The upper floor consists of a hall and two reception rooms. On the eastern side, there was a third, timber-floored, level where the sleeping quarters were located. On the ground floor is a kitchen, servants’ quarters and stairs to the upper floors. The entrance, which is on the upper floor, was reached by a long flight of stairs which is now missing. At each side of the building is a room with a lean-to roof which may have been used to stable horses. A stone mounting block to assist people onto their horses can be seen on the eastern side. To the front there was a semi-circular courtyard, enclosed by a low stone wall and entered by a gate.

View of Dublin port
From Mount Pelier Hill
Irish Landscape Images
Nigel Borrington 2018

The house faces to the north, looking over Dublin and the plains of Meath and Kildare, including Conolly’s primary residence at Castletown House in Celbridge. The grounds around the lodge consisted of a 1,000-acre (4.0 km2; 1.6 sq mi) deer park. The identity of the architect is unknown: the author Michael Fewer has suggested it may have been Edward Lovett Pearce (1699–1733) who was employed by Conolly to carry out works at Castletown in 1724.

There was a prehistoric burial site at the summit of Mount Pelier Hill and stones from it were used in the construction of the lodge. A nearby standing stone was also used for the lintel over the fireplace. Shortly after its completion, a great storm blew the original slate roof off. Local superstition held that this was the work of the Devil, an act of revenge for disturbing the ancient cairn. Conolly had the roof replaced with an arched stone roof constructed in a similar fashion to that of a bridge. This roof has remained intact to the present day, even though the building has been abandoned for over two centuries and despite the roof being set alight with tar barrels during the visit of Queen Victoria to Ireland in 1849. There is little evidence that the lodge was put to much use. Conolly himself died in 1729.


Great Poems “The Stolen Child” W.B. Yeats

“The Stolen Child”
W.B. Yeats

This is the ultimate poem about changelings, or children taken away by fairies and exchanged (often an explanation for the frequent deaths of children). The creepiest thing about it? It kind of makes going off to fairyland sound really tempting. Damn you, Yeats, you’re good.

Where dips the rocky highland
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy island
Where flapping herons wake
The drowsy water-rats.
There we’ve hid our fairy vats
Full of berries,
And of reddest stolen cherries.
Come away, O, human child!
To the woods and waters wild
With a fairy hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than
you can understand.

Where the wave of moonlight glosses
The dim grey sands with light,
Far off by farthest Rosses
We foot it all the night,
Weaving olden dances,
Mingling hands, and mingling glances,
Till the moon has taken flight;
To and fro we leap,
And chase the frothy bubbles,
While the world is full of troubles
And is anxious in its sleep.
Come away! O, human child!
To the woods and waters wild,
With a fairy hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than
you can understand.

Where the wandering water gushes
From the hills above Glen-Car,
In pools among the rushes,
That scarce could bathe a star,
We seek for slumbering trout,
And whispering in their ears;
We give them evil dreams,
Leaning softly out
From ferns that drop their tears
Of dew on the young streams.
Come! O, human child!
To the woods and waters wild,
With a fairy hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping then
you can understand.

Away with us, he’s going,
The solemn-eyed;
He’ll hear no more the lowing
Of the calves on the warm hill-side.
Or the kettle on the hob
Sing peace into his breast;
Or see the brown mice bob
Round and round the oatmeal chest.
For he comes, the human child,
To the woods and waters wild,
With a fairy hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than
he can understand.


Monday Poetry : The Valley of Unrest By Edgar Allan Poe

The Valley of Unrest
By Edgar Allan Poe

Once it smiled a silent dell
Where the people did not dwell;
They had gone unto the wars,
Trusting to the mild-eyed stars,
Nightly, from their azure towers,
To keep watch above the flowers,
In the midst of which all day
The red sun-light lazily lay.
Now each visitor shall confess
The sad valley’s restlessness.
Nothing there is motionless—
Nothing save the airs that brood

.

Over the magic solitude.
Ah, by no wind are stirred those trees
That palpitate like the chill seas
Around the misty Hebrides!
Ah, by no wind those clouds are driven
That rustle through the unquiet Heaven
Uneasily, from morn till even,
Over the violets there that lie
In myriad types of the human eye—
Over the lilies there that wave
And weep above a nameless grave!
They wave:—from out their fragrant tops
External dews come down in drops.
They weep:—from off their delicate stems
Perennial tears descend in gems.


Images without words , The remains of the day


Images without words : Frosty Morning on the river Suir, county Tipperary .


Images without words : The path into the light …….

Irish Landscape Images GarryDuff county Kilkenny
Nigel Borrington


Images without words : Irish Landscapes, the view from GarryDuff county Kilkenny

Irish Landscape Images GarryDuff county Kilkenny
Nigel Borrington


The River – Poem by Kathleen Jessie Raine

The rivers flow
Kings river
Kells
County Kilkenny

The RiverPoem by Kathleen Jessie Raine

In my first sleep
I came to the river
And looked down
Through the clear water –
Only in dream
Water so pure,
Laced and undulant
Lines of flow
On its rocky bed
Water of life
Streaming for ever.

A house was there
Beside the river
And I, arrived,
An expected guest
About to explore
Old gardens and libraries –
But the car was waiting
To drive me away.

One last look
Into that bright stream –
Trout there were
And clear on the bottom
Monster form
Of the great crayfish
That crawls to the moon.
On its rocky bed
Living water
In whorls and ripples
Flowing unbended.

There was the car
To drive me away.
We crossed the river
Of living water –
I might not stay,
But must return
By the road too short
To the waiting day.

In my second dream
Pure I was and free
By the rapid stream,
My crystal house the sky,
The pure crystalline sky.

Into the stream I flung
A bottle of clear glass
That twirled and tossed and spun
In the water’s race
Flashing the morning sun.

Down that swift river
I saw it borne away,
My empty crystal form,
Exultant saw it caught
Into the current’s spin,
The flashing water’s run.
The River
Kathleen Jessie Raine


Bogland – Poem by Seamus Heaney

Bogland - Poem by Seamus Heaney Image - Nigel Borrington

Bogland – Poem by Seamus Heaney
Image – Nigel Borrington

We have no prairies
To slice a big sun at evening–
Everywhere the eye concedes to
Encrouching horizon,

Is wooed into the cyclops’ eye
Of a tarn. Our un-fenced country
Is bog that keeps crusting
Between the sights of the sun.

irish-bogland-02-nigel-borrington

They’ve taken the skeleton
Of the Great Irish Elk
Out of the peat, set it up
An astounding crate full of air.

Butter sunk under
More than a hundred years
Was recovered salty and white.
The ground itself is kind, black butter

Melting and opening underfoot,
Missing its last definition
By millions of years.
They’ll never dig coal here,

irish-bogland-03-nigel-borrington

Only the waterlogged trunks
Of great firs, soft as pulp.
Our pioneers keep striking
Inwards and downwards,

Every layer they strip
Seems camped on before.
The bogholes might be Atlantic seepage.
The wet centre is bottomless.


Irish Landscape images, county Kilkenny : The fog after the rain, a poem

Irish landscape images County Kilkenny  after the rain

Irish landscape images
County Kilkenny
after the rain

The fog after the rain , a poem

Rain falls all day in the old valley,
All the woodlands swimming underneath the steaming fog.
What peaceful sound I hear,
softly rings out of the sparkling
Woods and fields,
song of a thousand winter birds
announcing the setting sun,
Who sings loudest, after the rains.


Mountain Poetry, Ride the foothills by : Denel Kessler

Foothills of Slievenamon Irish Landscape images Nigel Borrington

Foothills of Slievenamon
Irish Landscape images
Nigel Borrington


Denel Kessler

Chinook Skies

cobalt rain
rides the foothills
mountains conspire
in malevolent
cloud lairs

Waterford Coastline, Irish Landscape Photography : Nigel Borrington

beneath gray waters
she treads
the warming sea
in constant current
scaled desire

Eveing river walk 1

burnished crimson
silver sleek
with ripened need
she lives to die
upstream


Changing my Blogs header

I guess every now and then we all need to change our blogs header image. Since the start of the year I have had the below landscape image of our local Mountain Slievemanon – county Tipperary, as my sites header, Taken during the winter months.

Landscape Header Nigel Borrington 2016 1

It has taken me until the Summer to capture an image that I was as happy to use but last week, while out walking I wondered through a local field full of Barley and took some close up images. One of these I knew I would be very happy to use as a header image, at least until the Autumn when I hope to capture some of my most loved yellows and browns from the changing Irish landscape.

cropped-header-summer-2016.jpg


A breeze at Dawn

Sunrise in West cork 1

“The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you.
Don’t go back to sleep.”
– Rumi

Sunrise in West cork 2

“When you arise in the morning, think of what a precious privilege it is to be alive – to breathe, to think, to enjoy, to love.”
– Marcus Aurelius


When I’m Gone , Poem By : Lyman Hancock

When I am gone Poem

When I’m Gone
by : Lyman Hancock

When I come to the end of my journey
And I travel my last weary mile
Just forget if you can, that I ever frowned
And remember only the smile

Forget unkind words I have spoken
Remember some good I have done
Forget that I ever had heartache
And remember I’ve had loads of fun

Forget that I’ve stumbled and blundered
And sometimes fell by the way
Remember I have fought some hard battles
And won, ere the close of the day

When I am gone along the road

Then forget to grieve for my going
I would not have you sad for a day
But in summer just gather some flowers
And remember the place where I lay

And come in the shade of evening
When the sun paints the sky in the west
Stand for a few moments beside me
And remember only my best

When I am gone all to sea


My 1000th post, a Monday Morning – Thank you …..

Sunrise above the Mountain Irish landscape Photography Nigel Borrington

Sunrise above the Mountain
Irish landscape Photography
Nigel Borrington

Today’s Post marks the 1000th on my Blog so I just wanted to say a Massive THANK YOU!!! to anyone and everyone who has visited over the last few years.

Thank you for posting all your many thousands of comments and likes and for helping me to enjoy the landscape of Ireland that I love so much. Thank you also for allowing me to share my photography of so many of these much loved locations.

THANK YOU 🙂 🙂

I was looking through my posts and noted that these two images are the very first images I posted back in 2011, so I wanted to share them here again this morning.

I my slowdown posting a little over the next few weeks, I want to read more of your posts and enjoy them , it takes time creating a post and I don’t then always have time to read and look at your posts, something I love doing 🙂

Irish landscape images 1


When will I see the Bog Cotton again ?

Bog Cotton  Irish Landscape Photography : Nigel Borrington

Bog Cotton
Irish Landscape Photography : Nigel Borrington

Each year that comes and goes in the Irish bog-land landscape, for me is marked by the summer Bog Cotton. This amazing grass covers many of Ireland boggy wet lands , on the mountain sides and the low lands of midlands through out the country. Only for the fact that much of the Countries bogs are farmed for peat ( leaving the landscape scraped and scared, with no plant life left ! ) then their would be huge areas in the summer months all covered with white Cotton blowing in the wind.

When Will I see the Bog Cotton again ?

Well Starting from this May and June I hope, and I will be getting lots more pictures and just taking time to appreciate the views it brings !!!

Will I get to see the Bog cotton again 5

Will I get to see the Bog cotton again 1

Will I get to see the Bog cotton again 2

Will I get to see the Bog cotton again 3


The Unnamed Lake, Poem by : Frederick George Scott (1861-1944)

Irish Landscape Photography Nigel Borrington

Irish Landscape Photography
Nigel Borrington

A Monday Morning Poem

The Unnamed Lake

By : Frederick George Scott (1861-1944)

IT sleeps among the thousand hills
Where no man ever trod,
And only nature’s music fills
The silences of God.

Great mountains tower above its shore,
Green rushes fringe its brim,
And o’er its breast for evermore
The wanton breezes skim.

Dark clouds that intercept the sun
Go there in Spring to weep,
And there, when Autumn days are done,
White mists lie down to sleep.

Sunrise and sunset crown with gold
The peaks of ageless stone,
Where winds have thundered from of old
And storms have set their throne.

No echoes of the world afar
Disturb it night or day,
The sun and shadow, moon and star
Pass and repass for aye.

‘Twas in the grey of early dawn,
When first the lake we spied,
And fragments of a cloud were drawn
Half down the mountain side.

Along the shore a heron flew,
And from a speck on high,
That hovered in the deepening blue,
We heard the fish-hawk’s cry.

Among the cloud-capt solitudes,
No sound the silence broke,
Save when, in whispers down the woods,
The guardian mountains spoke.

Through tangled brush and dewy brake,
Returning whence we came,
We passed in silence, and the lake
We left without a name.


Irish Landscape Images, Black and White Friday

Irish Landscape Images Black and White Friday Nigel Borrington

Irish Landscape Images
Black and White Friday
Nigel Borrington

It hard to believe how fast a week can go – Its Friday already 🙂 🙂

The Last Friday of January 2015 and I was trying to think what Images could best show the month we have just had here in Ireland. I love black and white Images at this time of year I feel they capture the winter months very well. This month we have had many seasons all in one go, sometime warmer than expected other times we have been very cold with Snow on the hills.

Last night I selected these four images as I feel they show everything from Freezing mists in the mountains to snow on the hill tops and a cold sea mist hanging just off the county Waterford coastline.

As its Friday I will wish everyone a great weekend, I hope you manage to get out into the open air and well! just relax and have a great time ! 🙂

Kilkenny Landscape Photography 02

Kilkenny Landscape Photography 03

Kilkenny Landscape Photography 01


Images from a field of blue bells – Poem : ‘The Bright Field’ by R. S. Thomas

In the Blue bells field 7
Our dog Molly, In the Blue bells field, Slievenamon, County Tipperary
Landscape Photography : Nigel Borrington

Located on the west slopes of Slievenamon , County Tipperary, is a small yet wonderful little field .

To reach it you have to walk some thirty minutes through wood-lands and up a mountain track, finally reaching a gate. The site that welcomes you in May is that of a field full of blue bells and an old derelict farm cottage. This cottage would be able to tell some amazing stories and if it only could!

Above the field are the mountain slopes that I am much more use to seeing, with mountain heather and scrub lands, streams and baths.

I have visited this field many times, its a great location during the summer and a wonderful escape and resting place after a walk to the top of the mountain.

I just wanted to share one of my most loved local locations here and also one of my most loved Poems by R. S. Thomas, which I feel is perfect for this post ….

The Bright Field

by R. S. Thomas

I have seen the sun break through
to illuminate a small field
for a while, and gone my way
and forgotten it. But that was the
pearl of great price, the one field that had
treasure in it. I realise now
that I must give all that I have
to possess it. Life is not hurrying

on to a receding future, nor hankering after
an imagined past. It is the turning
aside like Moses to the miracle
of the lit bush, to a brightness
that seemed as transitory as your youth
once, but is the eternity that awaits you.

The field a Gallery

In the Blue bells field 6

In the Blue bells field 4

In the Blue bells field 1

In the Blue bells field 2

In the Blue bells field 3

In the Blue bells field 5