I was supposed to have gone into town this afternoon on urgent business after the rain had died down. Nonetheless, there was an insatiable need to take some quick photographs of flowers whilst it was still raining. So I headed over Dodder footbridge to the neat row of tiny houses hidden away in a quiet cul-de-sac. I saw a man standing at his gate. I asked him if he could possibly tell the owners of the house with the hedgerow of small wild fuchsias next door to him that I’d taken some photos last week and I hoped it was alright. He promptly replied that he had seen me and that there was no problem whatsoever. I proceeded to tell him about the delightful pink roses down a few doors. ‘Ah, that’s Nora’s’ house he exclaimed.
“She’s a very nice lady, and I’m sure she’ll not mind at all. Go down to her.” He added. So I did, and we had a wonderful chat about her flowers. I detected a wee Cork lilt to her accent, so she told me that she hailed from the Limerick / Cork border. I told her that Limerick was where Jan O’Sullivan the politician, hailed and that I had a cousin who was living on the Limerick / Tipperary border. I told her that I’d travelled to both Cork and Limerick before. I said her flowers were so beautiful and that I’d got personal feedback after putting some of them that I’d photographed last week on to my blog. I asked her if that was alright to do so. Fire ahead anytime you want to take some snapshots. So I did.
She went on to say that she was reared on a farm and that she was used to animals and nature and that she had to make do with only a small garden in Dublin. So I pointed to the Dodder facing her with all the trees and the river and said, but you live in a secluded spot here that faces out to the river as opposed to a row of houses. Here is your city farm. She smiled and nodded in the affirmative and said that she was very happy living there.
All the while I was talking to Nora, as she introduced herself to me and vice versa. I felt a bit nervous. You see, it’s not every day that a person goes to a door and asks the owner if one could take photo’s of the latter’s flowers. I was mindful of the fact too that she was of an older generation and that she would have been warned to be extra careful of bogus callers. I was also cognisant that the neighbours must have been wondering who the strange woman was hanging outside an array of local houses taking photos. They waved to Nora, after calling her name in the distance. The antennae must have certainly been alerted.
As I was taking some photos of the flowers with the permission of Nora, I spotted two gardai pass by on foot. I had to laugh, as I caught them on video. I guessed they must have come out to check on the odd creature lurking about with a camera at houses which in the main appeared to be owned by older people. I guess it’s only right. Nora insisted they were workmen, of which there were some who’d passed by earlier in luminous-green jackets. However, the two who passed by were walking very upright and had the gimp of same.
A robin appeared on the scene. Nora told me that the robins have a nest in the trees on the Dodder, just opposite her house. They visit her all the time. She said that when it was snowed under during Christmas, but one, she placed food in the doorway and they came right inside.
We went on to talk about the Women’s Mini Marathon and she told me that Garret Fitzgerald and his wife had been good friends of hers. This was after I’d told her about getting photos of some lovely flowers at Eglinton Rd. She told me that he’d lived on that road. I was stunned to hear that, as I never knew that at the time of his funeral and when I did the tribute to him lately with those flowers.
I bid Nora adieu and thanked her for allowing me to enjoy the beauty of her flowers and the nice conversation too boot. She said that I could come back to get some photos of her large-sized fuchsias, which are starting to grow. I saw them hidden away in a sheltered spot, and they’re a much bigger breed tan the wild ones growing on hedgerows.
The flowers that really caught my eye were the lilies and I told her so. She beckoned me to go inside and take photos of them. I thanked her very much. I said I’d wanted to take some snaps of them when I passed by last week, but the railings were in the way and it was thus far too awkward.
She held on to the stem whilst I took a close-up shot. Look at the water-drops and the pure yellow carrot-like stem. Very sensual, dare I say?
Here’s another one of the lilies insides. Talk about the lily representing purity in religion…?
The lily lines are so perfect.