Journal – Páraig – Grow Write Repeat

From Flower Pot to Paint Pot

Recently, on one of my Six-on-Saturday updates, I featured a lovely lobelia (variety ‘something-or-other’), purchased from Simon at the Farmers’ Market in Lismore. It has since found a home in yet another patio pot—proof, if any were needed, that gardeners can always find room for just one more plant.

Today brings a rather different update. Not a speck of compost was disturbed and my impeccably clean gardening hands remained gloriously soil-free. Instead, I fed a photograph of the lobelia into the Colorela app, which transformed it into a paint-by-numbers challenge.

The app analysed my flower with machine-like confidence and calmly announced: Estimated time to complete is 7 minutes, 14 seconds.

Knowing my pace, that’s more likely to require four cups of coffee, and several moments of muttering, “Now… where on earth is number 7?” By the time I’d colour the final petal, the real lobelia would probably have finished flowering and scattered its seed. As things turned out, I completed the digital version of Simon’s Lobelia ‘something-or-other’ in just under fourteen minutes.

It certainly wasn’t a wet winter evening when I tackled the digital masterpiece. It was just before midnight, shortly after the recent solar eclipse — a perfectly ordinary time, obviously, to begin colouring flowers on a phone instead of sleeping.

I’ve never claimed to possess a conventional artistic bone in my body. Give me a trowel or a hammer and I’m reasonably competent; hand me a paintbrush and innocent objects become nervous. Yet somehow Colorela lets me dabble without fear of ruining expensive paper or terrifying the neighbours with my artistic ambitions.

Perhaps everyone has an artist quietly hiding inside them. Mine just needed numbered sections, a colour key, and the reassuring knowledge that if all else failed, there was an undo button.

And, if you’ve got another three minutes…

Revisit my eclipse update for 12th August, 2026…

The Great Irish Eclipse — Almost Missed Over a Beer. This update is a summary of the August 12th eclipse and what I was doing instead of gazing at it.

I hope you have a Wonderful Wednesday.

Slán until next time,

Pádraig.

Beauty, Drought, and Lavender: The Best Garden Yet in a Summer of Contrasts

Summer 2026 has been one of the most remarkable seasons in memory. Two heatwaves, an almost rainless July, an extended hosepipe ban, and daily images of wildfires sweeping across Europe. Closer to home, both Slievenamon and the Comeragh Mountains burned, a sobering reminder that climate change is no longer a distant headline. It has arrived on our own doorstep.

And yet, despite the extremes, this has been the finest gardening summer I’ve ever had.

Gallbladder surgery at the end of July brought cycling, running and swimming to an abrupt halt. Six weeks of recovery sounded like a prison sentence at first. Instead, it turned into an unexpected gift. With no long rides to disappear on and no Parkrun to chase, I found myself with something gardeners rarely complain about—time.

In previous years, the gardening season seemed to end on the last day of June. After that, it was mostly watering, deadheading and sitting in a chair admiring the results. This summer has been different. I’ve kept tinkering, planting, moving pots, feeding containers and generally interfering in the lives of perfectly happy plants. Thankfully, they seem to have forgiven me.

One lesson has stood out. In the past, there were simply too many summer annuals competing for attention. It was a colourful jumble rather than a composition. This year I simplified everything, focusing mainly on begonias and geraniums. The result has been a garden with more harmony, stronger colour and a display that has carried right through the season. Sometimes, the best gardening decision is deciding what not to grow.

The vegetable patch has been modest but generous. Onions, tomatoes and rhubarb all produced well. The tomatoes have already become a batch of rich homemade relish, while a gift of fresh cucumbers is patiently waiting to become pickle next week. There is something deeply satisfying about walking a few steps from the garden to the kitchen and then filling the pantry with jars that began as tiny seeds only a few months ago.

The list of completed jobs has been surprisingly long. The shed has finally been tamed, daffodils have been lifted and repotted, and the patio has never looked better. Begonias, geraniums, gaura and sedum have turned it into a riot of colour. Even the weeds seem to have looked around and decided they couldn’t compete.

Finding the positive amid trauma of surgery.

Next on the agenda are two large timber planter boxes. The first will be built this week, the second in September. They’ll eventually become home to twelve lavender plants beside Marion’s favourite sitting step. She loves brushing her hands through lavender and carrying the fragrance with her afterwards. It’s a small project, but one I’ve been thinking about since last year.

The only slight complication is that fresh timber and I don’t get along terribly well. I’m allergic to it, so the building process will involve gloves, long sleeves and enough protective gear to make it look as though I’m handling hazardous chemicals rather than a few innocent planks of wood.

It has been a summer of striking contrasts: beauty and abundance alongside drought and fire; flourishing borders beside parched fields; recovery after surgery mixed with the frustration of staying off the bike and out of running shoes. Looking back, though, perhaps the enforced slowdown was exactly what both the garden and the gardener needed.

Strength training in garden is a win win.

A season of fewer miles, more flowers, more relish, and a garden that has never looked better. Sometimes life has a funny way of swapping one kind of growth for another.

Over on my other blog, I’ve outlined some fun amid the trauma of gallbladder removal surgery. Here’s the way to get there! Truly, there’s no such thing as minor surgery.

Pádraig

The Great Irish Eclipse — Almost Missed Over a Beer

For Ireland, this was a genuinely unusual event. The next eclipse of comparable significance visible from Ireland is not expected until 2090. I’ll be 132.

The 12 August 2026 solar eclipse was a particularly spectacular event for Ireland, although it was not total.

🇮🇪 What happened in Ireland?

Ireland experienced a very deep partial solar eclipse, with the Moon covering roughly 94–97% of the Sun, depending on location.

At maximum, only a thin crescent of the Sun remained, producing noticeably dimmer, almost twilight-like conditions.

🌑 Where was it total?

The path of totality crossed parts of:
Greenland → Iceland → northern Spain → Mediterranean

Those within the narrow path saw the Moon completely cover the Sun, revealing the solar corona and producing a brief period of darkness.

Ireland was just outside that path — close enough, though, to experience an exceptionally deep partial eclipse.

👀 And importantly…

Even when only a tiny fraction of the Sun remained visible, ordinary sunglasses were not safe. Proper eclipse glasses or an appropriate solar filter were required for direct viewing.

For Ireland, this was a genuinely unusual event. The next eclipse of comparable significance visible from Ireland is not expected until 2090. I’ll be 132.

Marion and I hosted her cousin, Fr Leo Shea from Tuesday 11th until Thursdsy. At the time of the eclipse we were enjoying a meal Al fresco with some local beers. Really, we only noticed the dimmed light to a certain extent. The beers were too nice and the conversations were better!