Blowin' In

Caught between winter and spring, the birds sense the need for a new herald. One of creation. One of hope. Nature speaks her own language. Animals sense change before humans. Birds

A Blow In is someone new to that area - the Power of poetry, memories, great writing and actively engaging in life - from an Italian girl immersed in the Irish community

In recent years forecasters began to name the storms: Conall Naoise Darragh As though one could predict the mood of the earth, sky, and sea based upon ...

Dad enjoyed spending Christmas in his own company, thinking of days when he would skate on frozen ponds in the middle of Chicago. Mostly, he liked to think about my mother. He would toast his love, quietly, with a small drop of Baileys mixed into his instant coffee. White Christmas

One lovely June evening, we found ourselves walking away from a riverfront music festival and into an inevitably dank, clichéd hotel bar. It felt counterintuitive to say the least, but we were heading toward a promise, the promise of a great Irish music session. It’s a powerful lure.