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Maybe the ducks instinctively knew the supermoon was coming, writes Damien Enright
Mon, 21 Nov, 2016
Mon, 14 Nov, 2016
The leaves underfoot are dry as potato crisps, lighter and every shade from pastel yellow to blood red. They crunch underfoot; they blow around the yard in eddies and whirlpools, writes Damien Enright
Mon, 07 Nov, 2016
Mon, 31 Oct, 2016
I see that I can’t see the Milky Way as I used to. It may be my eyes, but it seems I’m not the only one.
Mon, 24 Oct, 2016
The birds were being modest for good reason, writes Damien Enright
Mon, 17 Oct, 2016
The lapidary line of the tubercular John Keats is almost a cliché — “Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,” writes Damien Enright.
Mon, 10 Oct, 2016
KNOTWEED is flowering, those beautiful, lacy flowers that first won the hearts of the ladies and gents of Victorian England.
Mon, 03 Oct, 2016
HERE, on the coast, we have sometimes had fog for days, while inland the sun is shining out of china-blue skies.
Mon, 26 Sep, 2016
On a visit to Manchester, I could not help but notice how numerous and diverse was the wildlife in my son’s back garden in Sale, Altrincham.
Mon, 19 Sep, 2016