May is here. A so many of us restlessly awaits the unknown, due to the corona virus impact across the world, the earth is moving into a warmer sphere for us here in Ireland
The blossoms on the hawthorn tree are bright, white, facing the sunshine. Spring is turning into summer. The scent is everywhere as we walk by, the white and pale flowers hang in cluster
Maybe we are like Sean O Laoighaire’s beautiful wild goats down in Iveragh, getting ready to take a few big leaps, to try out what grown ups do, to foolishly lap it all up, taking risks as we jump into warmer days
The Hawthorn tree, frequently a marker to a holy place, has long thorns to protect it from grazing animals.
My mother repeatedly warned us to never bring it in the house, to never risk the bad luck of bringing it indoors. So still today, we relish it, joyfully behold it but espect it. I’ll be found spending time by the fairy tree, a little tree, respecting the magic, wanting to be part of the mystery it exudes.