No hand hath trained the ivy

The Deserted House

There's no smoke in the chimney,
And the rain beats on the floor;
There's no glass in the window,
There's no wood in the door;
The heather grows behind the house,
And the sand lies before.
No hand hath trained the ivy,
The walls are grey and bare;
The boats upon the sea sail by,
Nor ever tarry there.
No beast of the field comes nigh,
Nor any bird of the air
Mary Elizabeth Coleridge

The weather has changed with a vengeance - cold, windy, grey, damp. A day of catching up with chores. Time for a teeny spot of trespass though. A neglected, ivy strewn bungalow near Bantry airport. Yes, there is an airport - a minute landing strip that points in towards the town, not very often used. The space doubles up as a venue for the Agricultural Show in September. We did once watch a plane land here. A tiny two seater came teetering in - it had several attempts at landing, a ferocious cross wind hitting it at the last moment. There's a very helpful line on the runway that if you go past without having successfully landed means you'll end up in the sea.  A chap with those paddle things had astonishingly appeared from somewhere and was attempting to wave him in. A small crowd of dog walkers, beach ramblers and other curious citizens was urging him on. He eventually landedd on the third attempt and we all clapped and cheered. I was very grateful I wasn't a passenger.
Talking of airports, I'm off to Cork shortly to collect son#1 who is arriving for a few days - he has the wind behind him! Blips and commenting might be sparse but I'll catch up soon.
And Mary Coleridge before you wonder was the great grandniece of the other Coleridge.