“The trumpet of a prophecy! O Wind, If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?“
Last two lines of Percy Bysshe Shelley’s poem, “Ode to the West Wind“.
Narcissus ‘Tete-a-Tete’ Dwarf Daffodil appear early for Christmas. Pic: G. Willoughby
Narcissus ‘Tete-a-Tete’ Dwarf Daffodil normally bloom early in the season, starting from February through until April, and are among the first to herald the arrival of spring. Their vibrant blooms are a welcome sight after those grey winter months, bringing warmth and joy to our garden borders, rock gardens, containers, and window boxes.
However, here in Thurles, Co. Tipperary these Narcissus ‘Tete-a-Tete’ Dwarf Daffodil have decided to not wait for February and have raised their pretty heads above ground in early December; at least two whole months ahead of schedule.
New art works by artist Robert Gosnell, went on display yesterday, (Saturday December 7th,2024) at 2:30pm, in Cashel Library, Co. Tipperary. The exhibition entitled “The New Life” is all about taking something old and giving it a new perspective. The majority of the frames used in the exhibition were sourced from charity shops, while the images, the artist explains, “is a voyage through history, acknowledging the past, but in a new light”.
New Art Exhibition entitled“The New Life”– Cashel Library.
This exhibition will run throughout the month of December, in Cashel Library, Co. Tipperary and all are welcome to visit and view.
You canlocate the Cashel Library building, situated on Friar Street, Lady’s Well, Cashel, Co. Tipperary, HERE. (G487+RX).
Lyrics: American country-folk singer and influential songwriter, the late John Prine, (recorded on his 1986 album). Vocals:John Prine.
Speed of the Sound of Loneliness.
You come home late and you come home early, You come on big when you’re feeling small, You come home straight and you come home curly, Sometimes you don’t come home at all.
So what in the world’s come over you, And what in heaven’s name have you done, You’ve broken the speed of the sound of loneliness, You’re out there running just to be on the run.
Well I got a heart that burns with a fever, And I got a worried and a jealous mind, How can a love that’ll last forever, Get left so far behind.
So what in the world’s come over you, And what in heaven’s name have you done, You’ve broken the speed of the sound of loneliness, You’re out there running just to be on the run.
It’s a mighty mean and a dreadful sorrow, It’s crossed the evil line today, Well, how can you ask about tomorrow, We ain’t got one word to say.
So what in the world’s come over you, And what in heaven’s name have you done, You’ve broken the speed of the sound of loneliness, You’re out there running just to be on the run.
You’re out there running just to be on the run. You’re out there running just to be on the run.
Lyricists: American record producer Bob Thiele and American songwriter and arranger George David Weiss. Vocals: American trumpeter and vocalist Louis Daniel Armstrong (nicknamed “Satchmo”).
What A Wonderful World.
I see trees of green, red roses too. I see them bloom for me and you, And I think to myself, What a wonderful world. I see skies of blue and clouds of white, The bright blessed days, the dark sacred nights, And I think to myself, What a wonderful world. The colors of the rainbow, So pretty in the sky, Are also on the faces, Of people going by. I see friends shaking hands, saying, “How do you do?” They’re really saying, “I love you”. I hear babies cry, I watch them grow. They’ll learn much more, Than I’ll ever know, And I think to myself, What a wonderful world. Yes, I think to myself, What a wonderful world.
Lyrics and Vocals: American country music singer, songwriter and actor; sadly the recently deceased Kris Kristofferson (1936-2024).
The Pilgrim.
See him wasted on the side walk in his jacket and his jeans, Wearing yesterday’s misfortunes like a smile. Once he had a future full of money love and dreams, Which he spent like they was going out of style. And he keeps right on a changing for the better or the worse, Searching for a shrine he’s never found, Never knowing if believing is a blessing or a curse, Or if the going up is worth to coming down. He’s a poet he’s a picker he’s a prophet he’s a pusher, He’s a pilgrim and a preacher and a problem when he’s stoned. He’s a walking contradiction, partly truth and partly fiction, Taking every wrong direction on his lonely way back home. He has tasted good and evil in your bedrooms and your bars, And he’s traded in tomorrow for today. Running from his devils Lord and reaching for the stars, And losing all he loved along the way. But if this world keeps right on turning for the better or the worse, All he ever gets is older and around. From the rocking of the cradle to the rolling of the hearse, The going up was worth the coming down. He’s a poet he’s a picker he’s a prophet he’s a pusher, He’s a pilgrim and a preacher and a problem when he’s stoned. He’s a walking contradiction partly truth and partly fiction, Taking every wrong direction on his lonely way back home. There’s lotta wrong directions on that lonely way back home.
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