Ophelia bombarded us but Shelley’s leaves clung on

In the wake of Storm Ophelia, on the Tuesday morning, we opened the curtains on a world of blinding sunlight, and opened the French windows on a world a-buzz with the sound of chainsaws, writes Damien Enright. 

It was breathtaking; the morning and the day could not have been better. The good fortune of a friend from the Canary Islands who happened to come by to visit us was profound; he would see Ireland, our part of it, on, I believe, the loveliest day this year.

Yes, there was debris strewn across the garden. The big beeches had withstood the blast but lost a million leaves and the grounded twigs and small branches, were we to gather them, would provide a small mountain of kindling for the beech-wood barbecues of next summer (when we hope there will be mackerel, for there were all but none this year).