On the trail of Donegal’s ‘secret waterfall’

As children and adults, we are often lured by ‘secrets’ – this promise of getting to know something that was hitherto unknown, or hidden. Of course, in the travel and hospitality industry, this word is often abused – ‘secret hideaways’, ‘secret getaways’ and the like. I have an inherent distrust of such deals or phrases, and sometimes they can also speak of privilege and exclusivity – as if some people are privileged enough to be able to gain access to these deals more than the others. Why were we then, on the trail of Donegal’s secret waterfall?

One little pot. One little bee.

About three weeks ago, both the husband and I noticed that a bee started making a regular appearance in our balcony. It usually comes twice a day - in the morning and then in the time frame between 3 to 4 pm. It goes from one flower to another, having its fill. It is fascinating to watch it arrive on time and hop from one flower to another. We have been at this apartment for about two years or so now. The bee only started making an appearance after we got home the purple flowers plant aka the deep blue/purple coloured Pericallis Senetti Daisy.

Sunrise, the shade of a Turner’s painting

There was still time for the sun to emerge out of his slumber but the clues were there. It looked like the sun was out of his duvet, and just freshening up, his golden mane visible under the clouds. When he finally emerged, it was like fireworks in the sky - colours and sparks splattered across the vast expanse, his power and rage and light eclipsing everything else. Everyone stood still and watched, mobile cameras in hand.

Days of beauty and joy

Even if many such plans are cancelled with the new restrictions, it will be a small price to pay for the safety and health of everyone. Personally, the fact that I had a few absolutely beautiful days gives me the strength that if the coming months have more of social isolation, I will be okay. There's just so much loss and suffering around us because of Covid-19 that whatever problems the new restrictions might pose seem inconsequential in the larger scheme of things.

How do you chase a sunset?

I have also realised in hindsight that the bit that is so magical about sunsets is also what happening around us, and not just in the skies. People returning from work, families laid out in parks and beaches, mountains and boulders on holidays, moments of leisure, of stolen kisses and romances. Of the boiled and salted peanuts enjoyed on a vacation while watching the sun go down, or a relatively dull day lifted up by the sheer brilliance in the sky, and the sense of community, a sort of shared experience that we get when you find that many other people are enjoying and rejoicing, sharing a similar pleasure as they watch the sun going down.

The Lake District – a slice of heaven served on a plate

We had just moved to the UK from India and we had a car. We decided to go to the Lake District. And suddenly it was as if a curtain had been lifted - the poetry of William Wordsworth, taught to me during my BA in English Literature came alive. The daffodils came alive. It seemed like a slice of heaven was served on a plate and I could ask for more slices.