Killian Conyngham portrays nature and its ever-changing state as aplatform for writing and taking action.
I can remember it well. It was the first lockdown, and I was going for a stroll within my two kilometres. It was the beginning of the grand ‘auld stretch in the evening, and so the air was far warmer and crisper than I was used to from the winter months. The setting sun painted the otherwise monotonous housing estate golden-brown, and some far off birds chattered. Things felt manageable. I got home and wanted to write, if only as an attempt to capture a slice of existence at random.
Suddenly it was summer, and I was able to go all the way to Phoenix Park to meet some friends. We sat in the grass and watched the clouds swish by, discussing nothing at length. The weather was unpredictable and the tree we took shelter under felt enormous. On my cycle home, I had to stop by the canal to scribble notes and watch the swans. Too many words and phrases scrambled in my mind.
Then, last week brought more bad climate change news.
I stepped out into the back garden in a well-practised processing mechanism. The wood pigeon cooed as I stared out into the greenery for movement, wondering where the neighbourhood fox might be hiding. Stepping inside after; I was able to communicate my disappointment, frustration and sense of powerlessness far better. It doesn’t have to be grand vistas all the time. Sometimes a chirp or a tree is enough. If not only for inspiration, then for urgency.