14/06/2015: returning from Waterford


Foxgloves on the border.

We’ve been on holiday to Dunmore East, County Waterford, for the past week. So this feels like a good point for a first proper log entry, having returned to our home during a period where the garden is rapidly developing.

We travelled a fair bit in Ireland, taking in Waterford, Tramore, Fenor, Kilkenny, Courtown Harbour (well, mainly Pirate’s Cove) and Wexford, in roughly that order. The landscape, even by the side of M-roads, is lush and verdant, undulating with the odd mountain (usually referred to as a “knock” I think) plonked here and there. The coastlines are rugged and beautiful, with sandy coves and interesting rock formations.


Sunflowers by the Boiler House.

My main memories, apart from the family fun during the day, and the evenings and mornings spent writing my new (also very old) novel, will be of the fantastic beer, and the relatively quiet roads.

Also the wonderful Waterford city model maps in both the Medieval Museum and the Bishop’s Palace.

The Irish National Heritage Park in Wexford was splendid too. I recorded a couple of lines of a poem I’m hoping to make a video for next to a dolmen and a stone circle there. That they are replicas as opposed to millennia-old originals imbued with pre-Druidic ritual magic doesn’t particularly bother me. They (and the roundhouses, chapels, Viking longboats and Norman castles) all looked great.


Arum lilies.

As well as the ubiquitous Irish county and national flags, I saw a number of delicious four-province flags but, alas, I got no photographs.

We got back home to Landskeria late last night and V retrieved our dog Frida from our friends’ house this morning while I unpacked. (She was here for the first half of the week with my mother and little brother.)

A walk round the borders today reveals Arum lilies have appeared in the island flowerbed in the north garden. I don’t remember them from previous years, but that doesn’t mean they weren’t there. I’m neither the most observant person where plants are concerned nor even remotely knowledgeable. (I had to look up the name, certain that I’d recognize it when I saw it. I didn’t.)


Newt spawn. I think.

Foxgloves are sprouting from the hedges, but also the flowerbeds, having sprung up to human height in the space of a week.

What I believe to be newt larvae can now be found when I sieve the ever-encroaching weeds and algae from Pond #2; apparently they are called “efts” once they’ve done a bit more growing. So I can’t wait for that. Our ever-abundant tadpoles (AKA “pollywogs”) are now quadrupeds with long tails, and most odd looking altogether.



The lawn is full of wildflowers but mercifully not too out-of-control for a Sunday afternoon. (I won’t be mowing it today as it’s fairly damp and I am tired).


Christmas tree by the sandpit.

The Christmas tree I planted last year after its second year of service has sprouted bountiful quantities of lime-green brushes from almost all of its branches. Despite V being quite sure it’s in the wrong place, next to the girls’ sandpit, it is doing splendidly. (It obviously disagrees.)

The sunflowers she planted in the dirt patch I cleared in front of the Boiler House are doing okay.

I found some fox poo in the top garden. At least I think it was from a fox. Too big for Frida and too small for anyone else’s dog. (And we don’t tend to get visiting dogs here.) I dread to think what would happen if she met a fox; she, being tiny, tends only to pick fights with snails. She’s often to be found lying on the rug in the play room crunching her way through one. This is especially amusing because she’s a Papillon, and therefore nominally French.


Sybil’s gooseberry bush.

The gooseberry bushes and blackcurrant bushes both look promising at this stage of development. As does the plum tree. Apple tree and damson tree not so much.

Hopefully this year we’ll make better use of the fruits and I won’t stick them all in demijohns of cheap booze in the hope that they’ll turn tasty.

(This year I plan on using expensive booze. Or crumble.)



The explosion of white paint out the front where we put the bins out remains uneroded. A tractor ran over a binbag full of old paint cans that the binmen wouldn’t take. It looks pretty dynamic now. (But not bio-.)

The two wooden sheds continue to slowly decay, while basically fulfilling their purposes. Flies are increasing steadily. No further attempts by wasps to build nests have been noted.

The admin involved in establishing the sovereignty of a new republic is such that no constitutional updates are available at this time. The building of a fence and two gates has been postponed due to funds being siphoned into a separate funnel feeding the development of a new website for business services offered by the (adult) inhabitants of Landskeria. More on that later.

The weather is muggy. The environment is stable. The economy is good.


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