Mary Wilkinson's Blog
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Nov.17.2012
I have never attended a candlelit vigil before so I did not know what to expect. I knew that I had to dress warmly and so donned a warm hat and two pairs of socks and my favourite vintage coat that guarantees central heating even in extreme Arctic conditions. However, my emotions were not prepared...
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12 comments
Nov.16.2012
If I'm lucky I get to gather one egg from the hens these November days. I usually go out to the coop anticipating nothing at all and there it sits, one brown egg, like a small trophy, covered in bits of hay and chicken dooh dah, only to be carried back to the kitchen and set aside for the baking....
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7 comments
Nov.15.2012
It rained for three days straight. A rain that held no energy, no sound. No reassurance of tap tapping on the skylights. No angry sudden bursts. Instead it just fell down in an unremitting stream of mist and the mist brought with it a web-like fog which made everything appear dark and fuzzy and I...
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8 comments
Nov.14.2012
It would be so easy to write about my day. To describe the last of the stunningly beautiful leaves on the Sycamore tree and how I watched my neighbour from down the way wheel his barrow by this house. I could write about the cake I baked and how I did not make enough frosting to cover it and how I...
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12 comments
Nov.12.2012
Thankfully the BIGA survived the long night in the refrigerator and I took it out first thing to bring it back to room temperature. I refreshed it again. I think it was the right thing to do although I was not clear if I should have used it as is but I went with my instinct. Once it was refreshed...
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6 comments
Nov.12.2012
It is not easy to write it all out. To know where to begin. To find the right starting point.
Most days your head is like a big steel bucket full of jumbled up words. And when you
do choose one to begin with, you find that you cannot seem to find a match for it. The words
can come...
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4 comments
Nov.11.2012
I started the BIGA yesterday. Thanks to Carol Field's book, The Italian Baker. I was lucky to secure this book on Red Room, following a competition on writing about travels in Italy. I think I wrote about throwing my worn out high tops into the Med just as the toe of Italy met Sicily. It was a...
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13 comments
Nov.10.2012
I choose a cardigan the colour of the green moss that grows on the walls beyond this house and stockings the shade of a sky that deems to come every now and then when the mood allows. I put tiny blue earrings into the hole in my ear lobes and shadow my eyes with a navy pencil that blurs like...
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Nov.09.2012
H believes that I am overfeeding the hens and all because I was clearing out the kitchen cupboards and found a half bag of couscous and some stale muesli and put it in a bowl to which I added some boiling water until it resembled a glorious mush and then when it had cooled somewhat I went out...
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8 comments
Nov.07.2012
I wonder what happened to your whistle?
I never even saw it go.
But it dawned on me today that I have not heard it in a long while.
When was the last time you pursed your lips to emit the sound?
Has it been swallowed up by worry? Age? Regret?
Or did it cease, not by choice but by nature?
I do miss...
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4 comments
Nov.06.2012
The cows have abandoned the field behind the house and I wonder if I had perhaps imagined what caused such intense pleasure in me. I think that I must have conjured up the image to satisfy the obvious fallow circumstances of their temporary pasturing on a brown swathe of land, thick with rock....
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6 comments
Oct.31.2012
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Dive in. Write about something. Blog once more. Before you forget how.
Write about Doris Day http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rFbyts_JbbA.
Write about how you are driving on the motorway from Dublin to Galway and how you are switching stations on the radio in an attempt to ward off...
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Oct.23.2012
I never even noticed the farmer as herded his cows into the field behind the house. I must have lost myself into a recipe, that crucial point of when to add the egg whites to the batter caused me to lose sight of external goings on, the ponderings of how and why the flour I chose caused a...
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6 comments
Oct.09.2012
I failed to light the candle and the match burnt down to the end and singed my skin.
The key broke in the keyhole and the dogs walked backwards, tails down.
I buttered a bagel without toasting it first and the dough clung like glue to the roof of my mouth.
I walked up the descending escalator....
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16 comments
Oct.08.2012
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zQMCvzCuFMQ&feature=player_embedded
Thought all you writers' out there might appreciate this! mx
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12 comments
there isn't enough of anything as long as we live. But at intervals a sweetness appears and, given a chance prevails.
”
—Raymond Carver
About Mary
I live in the west of Ireland. I enjoy writing in many forms, prose, drama, poetry and short pieces for radio. I am also a fanatical baker.
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Mary’s Favorite Books
Stag's Leap - Sharon Olds, The Picture of Dorian Grey - Oscar Wilde, The Bell Jar - Slyvia Plath, Unless - Carol Shields, A Moveable Feast - Hemingway, The Sea...
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