The West of Ireland has my heart, has a hold on me, and nowhere has that pull like the bog. As a child we went to the West most summers, and as an adult I continue to go whenever I can. This summer I had the great pleasure of going in the mobile studio, and having spent many days painting near my sister’s in south Galway, I headed north of Galway city with my mother to paint the West of my childhood memories.
Not wanting to spend too much time driving, we went east of the Corrib, new territory for both of us, and embarked on an adventure of discovery in search of beauty. It was everywhere, painting spots all around, and we found a track that led us into the heart of a bog, and what a day we had. Full sunshine, the first day of such heat they’d had out that way all summer, and because of it the turf was still stacked and drying, and being September the heather was in full bloom. So we had the combination of strong purples and rich umbers and the gold of marsh reeds, and bog cotton and marsh thistles speckled the landscape with carpets of flowers.