Hello May, you rather snuck up on a person. May is usually my favorite month in Ireland. It's when I recommend traveling here. April can be cold and grey, March is positively dismal, but May is when spring truly starts to arrive in Ireland. The trees begin to have leaves again, the weather usually turns meek, the forests fill with bluebells, and the apple orchards fleetingly bloom. Apple blossom never seems to be as popular online as other spring flowers--there's rhapsodies over cherry blossoms and bluebells and wisteria hysteria, but rarely do I see apple blossoms paid the same attention. On one hand I do understand why as the apple blossom is fleeting, catching an orchard full of pink buds before they disappear is difficult...unless you happen to live in the Orchard County with dozens of orchards on your doorstep.
When you’ve been blogging for more than a decade you have to find the balance between being too repetitive and answering frequent questions. For example, I live in what is known as the Orchard County because of all the apple orchards in this region. From my house I can walk to at least four orchards, my in-laws apple farm is less than a ten minute drive down the road, and every car ride means passing countless orchards which in these early days of May are filled with fleeting pink blossoms. If you’ve been following my blog it no doubt feels repetitive when I tell you I live in Orchard County, my pictures amongst the apple blossoms in spring and the varied apples in autumn are annual traditions. And yet I also get asked every day on social media, “where do you live? what country is this in your pictures?” So yes, I live in Ireland in a wee village surrounded by apple orchards which are now in their prettiest season full of wild flowers below and pink blossoms above.
old blouse, Bill Skinner bee necklace, Simply Grey linen skirt with braces, old flats, honeycomb ring
In winter when the orchards lose their leaves the branches always remind me of spiders. Dark, spindly, and crooked branches almost threatening in shape. But when they bloom in spring those branches look like pure poetry. Dotted in sweet-smelling flowers the thin branches look like a haiku in floral form. The best few though isn’t from walking down one of these tree-lined alleys, but sitting down in the tall grass and looking up at the canopy of green and pink. From that angle an orchard came seem to stretch on forever, the trees arching to form the prettiest cathedral of blossom and sky.
This week I’ve spent quite a bit of time walking up and down green aisles, swatting away midgies, trying to dissuade Solomon from chasing bees, and enjoying their peaceful beauty. This year they seem more beautiful than ever. The lanes have been been mown for several weeks and in the interim dandelions and lady’s smock have flourished. In the sun the air is filled with the hum of bumblebees and hoverflies. If you stay still long enough you are able to spy a few white or speckled butterflies lighting their way from wildflower to wildflower. When Solomon gets restless and runs through the orchards his paws disturb the dandelions casting thousands of seeds into the air. And in the golden evening light there seems no where in the world that could be more beautiful or peaceful.
CONVERSATION