Its been a beautiful, bountiful summer here at Avondale, so here is us dropping in with a poem gift (below) and a ripe dripping strawberry for your viewing pleasure.
We are so grateful for all the wonderful people that have stayed with us so far this year. There has been an abundance of good vibes and we often pinch ourselves, wondering how did we get to live this life. Birthing two babies on this land has also changed and morphed my own being in the past three years. So much expansion, growth and healing within that.
We are excited to announce a super special course coming here in September (plenty more detail coming soon on that, watch out for the post).
We hope to continue the retreat journey into autumn and winter here, with beautiful energy and teachers and given some of the retreats booked to happen with Niamh, Veronica, Aoife, Selena, Ifa, Eithne and more we just know there is so much more in store.
We harvest our delicious blackberries and dive into lughnasa with a new found love for the gifts the land provides.
Although we spend time in Dublin, we continue to return here to make sure everyone is comfy and cosy and has everything they need. More books have been added, blankets, more extremely comfortable beds, we are mid outdoor yoga deck. (see progress pic below).
At this time of shifts, we are also diving into working with foods and herbs and returning to the foods that nourish us from the inside out. A potential reboot , a rhythm shift, deep care and planning for the turn of the seasons. Foods that are simple and easy to digest are top on priority list right now. We will soon begin to build with foods that are collagen-dense and mineral rich through autumn, OUr grandmothers and great grandmothers had a relation to food that we are beginning to foster again, to work through culinary alchemy. All garden witches welcome here as we harvest some from our surrounds together.
Her gut feeling –
a weavers word,
Delicate but strong.
A deeper resonance with birdsong,
Evolution whisked away
the meaning of trust/ Left
her swaying in the moon light
A strip down her sarong
Magenta, marigold, and grey.
Where once the hens nest,
Gave all her life away.
In an eggshell, scattered,
Eager to discover
Where the signs were,
The original spread,
A truck pulled out,
Iron entry gate remained, swinging
Only to cast rust.
Her love versus lust.