Dia is Muire dhaoibh uile. I am delighted to join the Ireland’s Own family to write some musings once a month. When the editor asked me to be part of the magazine, I was thrilled. The ethos sits very nicely with me and Ireland’s Own is a part of our culture and heritage that has certainly stood the test of time. A publication that began in 1902 and is still being read almost 118 years later is definitely getting things right.
I have to admit I was resigned to the fact that I would be talking to an older reader, like myself, but when my thirty-year-old son in Melbourne asked me to send him some copies, I had to rethink that perception.
I’m really pleased that the first contribution I’m making to Ireland’s Own is for this February issue, because I love this month.
There is a sense of hope, of light, of growth returning after the dark, cold, wet days of winter. I’m not a fan of that fourth season of the year.
I can cope with it in the run up to Christmas when it offers a bit of anticipation, opportunities to gather indoors, light candles, sit around blazing fires and contemplate the Christmas festivities but after the 6th January, when it’s time to take down the decorations and get rid of the tree, I go into a decline.
The roaring fires and the glow of candles lose their former appeal, and I just want January to be over. Now it is over and February is upon us, traditionally the beginning of spring, a time when the snowdrops and crocuses pop up under the bare trees and let us know that colour will return and that we have daffodils, bluebells and tulips to look forward to as well.