"Rossbrin" bow tie and "Åre" pre tied bow tie #simonsbowties #handmade #rossbrin #åre #weddingpresent #groom #bowtie #dapper #handembroidery (at Helsinki)
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from T1
seen from Greece
seen from T1

seen from T1

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Uruguay
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States

seen from Malaysia

seen from Australia
seen from China

seen from Croatia

seen from T1

seen from Germany
"Rossbrin" bow tie and "Åre" pre tied bow tie #simonsbowties #handmade #rossbrin #åre #weddingpresent #groom #bowtie #dapper #handembroidery (at Helsinki)
June 19. On an 8 hour bus ride from West to East Ireland.
Nick Addey’s directions to Rossbrin Permaculture Farm included key mile markers such a cross between two towns, “a boatyard which you can recognise by the boats on the land and not in the water,” “a farm house on your right with black dog,” “a black letterbox with a cow on your left,” a bumpy end of a curvy road and finally, his red gate. Nick was shocked that we got ourselves, and our new Swiss friend Rita with her postal van, lost. The next four weeks were equally as bizarre and wonderful.
On the first day, Brandi and I created a netted enclosure above a run-off pond so the week-old ducks could roam and swim freely. The second day we began weeding. The second week, we were still weeding. In this amount of time, Brandi and I became Southern belles Suzanne and Virginia, the troll Big Brandi and his fly-ridden sidekick Little Katie, and valley girls in a clique with Hen. The third week we demolished and rebuilt Nick’s slate roof. The work was so hot and the hours so long, that after most lunches fellow wwoofer Sophie Valtour and I went skinny dipping in the Pacific Ocean. The fourth week we repaired the cob oven, cut kilometers of grass paths, and cut gorse for goat bedding.
In between the weeks, Sophie, Brandi and I went thrifting, to art openings and a maritime music festival. In between the days, I watched the sun rise from the beach, broken by smooth black cliffs with the same texture as the pebbles on the shore. It was this beach that thrilled all 26 of Nick’s acres with its texture in the mist, its smell of memory, the birds it wooed, and the sea glass it refused. There is more of the ocean than us, and it is a mob, a wicked mother, a woman in the window; a lost god. And when the full moon rose like an enormous sunflower petal, it was the ocean that demanded it down again, giving it a double life in return.
26th September, 2014.
I stopped by the O'Mahoney ruin at Rossbrin Cove. Nice little beach for landing beside it. No doubt harboured a galley or two back in the day! The castle itself was the seat of Finghinn O' Mathuana, the scholar prince, during the 15th century. It was once a major center for learning in the medieval world.