Unauthorized

I noticed this gate, and the shady lane behind it, about a month ago. It's just off the roundabout towards the bottom of Bray Head. The lane appears to lead behind a new housing estate on the edge of a mature-looking wood. I've shot it before, but never blipped it till now. It somehow seems appropriate, perhaps because earlier today I began to sort through huge boxes that have been cluttering our hall corridor. Among all the books and toys the wean's outgrown were all mum's things, her handbag and books... stuff I haven't wanted to attempt to sort, and I still don't. But it's got to be done, along with all the rest of the clutter too: too many books I won't read or reread, too many ornaments that never really found a perch here, and all the solid, practical bric-a-brac of the dead. Naturally I suppose, it got to me, especially when I found something I thought might have been lost: her tiny childhood ballet shoe. (Was that laughter? No, grief: same well, different reservoir). But there's little point in a No Trespassing sign. The deep laneway is just there, barely under the skin.