This is the sort of photo I use to give me ideas. If you were out for a walk and came across this, would you go in?
What would you find in here? A biscuit tin with an old diary inside? Old love letters from people long dead? A sack of stolen trinkets? Or perhaps a pile of bones? I know if this was a scene from a murder mystery on television, some innocent person would be walking a dog; the dog would go into here and a body would be discovered. It’s a classic.
It takes a bit of searching to find colour in my garden this month but I always appreciate it when I do. I had to get up close with the camera to find little yellow crocus among dead leaves, drifts of snowdrops, tiny pink and white flowers of sweet-scented Viburnum 'Fragrans' and spiky leaves of Mahonia japonica with cheerful yellow flowers. And, of course, a friendly robin.
I’m a big fan of the National Library of Ireland photography archives, not only because they give us a true life glimpse behind the curtains of time but also because they help fire up my imagination. So, for a bit of festive fun, I compiled a Top Ten list of the historical images I used on my Instagram profile this year. These are the ones that received the most likes.
I’ve just returned home from a two week break in Ontario, Canada. My husband and I stayed with friends in London (built on the Thames River, of course) and we watched a musical in Stratford, Ontario, built on the Avon River. I can appreciate how nostalgic for home those early settlers in Canada must have been. London in Ontario also has streets named after areas in the British capital such as Kensington and Piccadilly. Back in the 1800’s, when people left home they left for good. This was certainly the case in my home country of Ireland.
I love old secret gardens, hidden away behind walls where ivy trails the paths and the bustle of a city slips away. I stumbled upon Dublin’s ‘Secret Garden’ yesterday.
On a warm April morning when dog walkers and tourists stopped to chat, I was talking to a complete stranger about her two Bichons when I noticed an old gateway at the end of Clonmel Street, off Harcourt Street. If you don’t know our capital city, this is a stone’s throw from the centre and St Stephen’s Green.
Spring is here today and I ran out with my mobile and took this photo of wild cherry blossom flowering in our garden against a clear blue sky. To celebrate its arrival, I’m holding a competition for a paperback edition of my novel The Neglected Garden. To enter all you have to do is go to the competition page and pick the answer to the question. If you’ve already read the book, you’ll know the correct answer and, if you haven’t, just take a guess. You’ve got a 50% chance of being right.
Can you remember the books you loved as a child? The books your parents read to you and then, when you were able to, the books you read over and over again? I used to feel transported to another realm. I remember crying over the poor Mock Turtle when my mother read me Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland because I really believed he would be made into soup. I remember feeling sorry for Eeyore on his own in that damp and gloomy part of the Hundred Acre Wood in Winnie the Pooh and I vividly recall the fascination I felt when Mary Lennox found the secret walled garden and when she heard the screams in the night in that dark, old house on the edge of the Yorkshire Moors in The Secret Garden.
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© Suzanne Winterly 2025
