A really unusual butterfly appeared in the garden today. At first I thought a piece of paper was falling from the sky, for his underwings were completely white, though his wings I saw when he landed on the mint leaves, were in several shades of speckled grey. Most unusual was his slender body which was a uniform bright orange colour.

I’m late heading South, plans and connections muddled, stress levels running high.
Sheila suggests calling into see her friends in An Gairdin en route for a quick break in the long drive. That I wouldn’t do so late in the day, but nerves quite frayed and no booking organized for later, driving through the village I think perhaps it would be a good idea to visit the garden and take a few deep organic breaths before continuing on.

I have not been here before. Initially I walk about laden with the day’s anxieties, not connecting with the flowers and shrubs and vegetables and pathways and hedges and colours that present themselves in all their loveliness. Second time round and the day’s troubles recede. And I see everything. And everything is looking back at me. And it is wonderful. And I smile in return. And walk about once more.

The light now fading, my pathway leads to the security of a tall enclosed canopy of beautifully scented woodbines and I stop there, peaceful, my mind in this enchanted space for once cleared of everything but the moment. How long I’m lingering there I can’t say, when a voice calls out, breaking the stillness. Coming from somewhere in the dense thicket: ‘Are you all right there? Are you looking for Kieran?’ I have no idea where it’s coming from but immediately prepare an apology for my unauthorised intrusion. And then as a figure approaches, I recognise the face: Maureen, a friend of Sheila’s.

Identifying myself brings the immediate offer of a cup of tea which could not have been more welcome than a golden goblet brimming with life’s elixir. And then I’m sitting in a lovely kitchen, raising a cup of steaming tea, graced with home-made bread and jam and Maureen is telling me how she’d just got up to put on the kettle and glancing through the rich vegetation had spotted me among the woodbines.

Paws giddy for a moment with excited greetings has now hopped up onto her bed and is curled in sleep. Chattering away I tell Maureen of my plans to continue South and when she asks if I’d like to stay the night, my protests in truth are very feeble. I need her reassurance that those for whom she’s house sitting would be ok about that and she reassures me that would be no problem at all. Maureen is apologetic that she has to go to Galway to visit a friend in hospital and will be away for some time.

Can you believe it Paws I say, when Maureen has gone to Galway, I start my day in utter chaos and stress and here I find myself in this wonderful hospitable paradise by the good fortune of stopping among the woodbines at the exact moment Maureen goes into the kitchen to put on the kettle. When Maureen returns we talk well into the night. Sleep comes swiftly and soundly and next morning after breakfast, Kieran supplies me with a bag of amazing organic tomatoes and I resume my journey knowing that the Gods indeed have smiled on me again.

The rain is pouring down. There are 7 sheep under the dense cover of the great ash in the field. One is lying close to the trunk, the others all standing, all still, looking towards the mountain. I wonder if their eyes are closed against the driving rain. Two of them now move out from under the green canopy – totally exposed – as though a voice has called out to them to move forward. Another beneath the leaves, shakes herself as a dog would do, the wet flying from her heavy coat.