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At this time of year I not only music of birds to hear and see daylight reaching out. There is tension in me and I am waiting whiteboard on them, amhal as I was watching the ship sail out of Valparaiso. Not her I do not like the winter there own - I do not care to be cold - but his son forever I hate the rain and the darkness, and make me dreams of faraway countries.
Often aiféal me (and I do not like this acknowledgment) that I came back here, that I returned to my native sod. I think the bhFritíortha heat, the life I spent outside on the beach or on the mountain. Why does the weather whiteboard hinders our pursuits in this country - or that was just me? Why the I am always waiting for the spring?
Anyway, not a bad story here. Not a bad thing to have at home. Terrible is not the music of birds above hear my hill at the beginning of spring. There spideoigín outside looking in on me as I write. Hare is visiting my garden, and occasional fox. The bundle comes. It adds a spark to the year and delight me.
I begin thinking about the possibilities, about the long bright days we face, which filled me with ... well, anything. I walk there, eyesight, heart healthy and I'm quite independent - I can leave if I want to about it. And I want it. Wilderness, I hear the call of the sea and attractive music.
I remain the swallows return. When I see the special dance that they have, when they have settled into the nest on the roof of the house again ... be 's then I hope that I can wear aa bend of the road and other hÉag lifelong, eternal adventure. This game is still in witch! Yes, I hate the rain - but it would be lovely rhythm of life difficult to overcome.
4 thoughts on "Waiting"
Hi Yvonne - the only one in Irish - Irish Week! But thank you for taking interest in it. Yvonne Apologies - this post is Irish for Irish Week. I greatly appreciate your Interest but just for the Week I'm trying to blog and tweet from Irish.
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