Where the Blackbirds Bathe

 

It started with a blackbird bathing in the most neglected part of my garden. During the house renovations a few years back, this area was where the workmen dumped rubble. I had promised myself a greenhouse or ‘something wonderful’ like an outdoor room and had dreamed of an orangery because, well, gardeners dream, writers dream… put that together, and you get orangery dreams. But the recent years have brought fiercer storms thanks to the reality of climate change, and we’ve already had the garage windows broken in a storm. What chance would a glasshouse of any kind have, especially built upon this hill?

So back to the bird – having a bath…

‘What about a wee pond?’ says I.

My Husband nods tentatively. He knows I don’t need much encouragement…

And how hard can a pond be after building the dry creek feature in my garden in California in the hard-baked, dry desert earth? Soft, soggy Irish soil would be no bother…

I did a bit of research. I consider the Ulster Wildlife Trust a very reliable source. If you’re thinking of a water feature, keep in mind what your local conditions will allow for. A dry creek works in California, but here it would probably get washed away! And likewise, a still-water wildlife pond would not have been a good idea in my California garden  (especially with the mosquito problem in standing water.) But in Ireland, it is a feature that will welcome the wildlife to my garden in all the best ways.

The first thing was to outline the size and shape I wanted. Rain tended to gather in the bits I dug out, so I kept a log in the hole in case the hedgehog fell in and needed to climb out.

I wanted a pond deep enough so it wouldn’t freeze solid to the bottom in the harshest winter weather. Apparently, that meant I had to have it a min of 45-60 cm deep for 40 % of the pool. I took things slowly. It was March. We were in lockdown. There was no big hurry. I aimed to dig 15 shovel-fulls a day. But what could I do with all that soil?

Last autumn, our neighbour chopped down a gigantic Leyland Cypress that had bordered our properties. It’s considered by some as an invasive tree, but it’s always sad to see a large tree being taken down. I did welcome the extra sunlight in the garden, though. Some of the larger branches had fallen on our side. We were so grateful when a Good Friend chopped them into a manageable size for us. I decided to use these logs to make a raised bed to border the pond and fill them, in part, with the displaced earth.

I was delighted when My 13-Year-Old Nephew pitched in one Saturday to help dig the pond – you know lockdown has gone on too long when things like that happen. We had such a great day together too. Excellent bonding time, and for the next few decades, I’ll sit by that pond with the fondest of memories of making it!

The ground was rocky in places and some of the rocks we took out were pretty big – that’s my wellie boot in the picture above for scale.

Despite hating the idea of adding more plastic to the planet, all the advice on making a pond said that I needed a pond liner. I dug a little trench around the rim to secure the liner.

I wanted large smooth pebbles/rocks to edge the pond and cover the surrounding area. A little bit of research led me to a company in Lurgan that would deliver river rock to my driveway. By my calculations, I’d need two tonnes of pebbles. They were due on the 5^th May – I had a week and a half to wait.

By the time all the digging was completed, we’d had the driest April on record. When rain was forecast to arrive before the stones would. I worried that the holes would fill with water before the liner was down and that I’d have a nightmarish mudbath trying to set the liner in place. So I decided to put down the liner and fill the pond with water (from our water butt) before the stones arrived.

To prevent sharp rocks from puncturing the pond liner,  there should be a layer of sand, then underlay of some kind (carpet underlay will work.)

Sand I had, leftover from the house renovations and stored in that rubble area for the last couple of years – it would be good to use it up.

I had saved the underlay from the carpet we took out before the renovations. It was perfect. It may as well lie beneath our pond and protect the liner as lie in landfill or in rolls taking up space on shelves in my garage.

The pond liner I had to order online. None of the garden centres were even open yet. I found a nifty calculator online that helped me gauge how much I needed, and just I ordered it up. When it arrived I laid it out in the sun to warm up so it was more flexible to fit the contours of the pond.

As it turned out, putting the water in before the rocks was a great plan. The water from the rainwater tank weighed down the liner and let us see how it looked. When the rain arrived, it filled the rest of the pond and replenished the tank. We were able to see where the liner needed ‘shored up’ to better control the direction of overflow runoff, away from the house. (Don’t forget the safety escape for the hedgehog – that liner might be too slippy for him to scramble out!)

The rocks arrived, and My 13-Year-Old Nephew came over again to help with placing those. It was hard and heavy work. Two tonnes was just the right amount of rock. My back ached, but, boy, did it feel good to see the project come together.

When the garden centres opened, I planned to go shopping for aquatic plants, but after an online research session, I concluded that I wouldn’t buy anything. Apparently, nature will find its own way to my pond. I follow the theory – fragments and seeds from nearby waterways (the River Callan being the closest) will be carried in by birds and take root. This way, I avoid the risk of introducing invasive species that are commonly introduced via garden centre stock. It’s kind of hard to believe that the pond will be a thriving ecosystem simply by my doing nothing, but I am willing to leave it for a year to see what happens – check back in 2022!

To finish, I added a bridge…

planted up the raised bed (that’s a post in its own right!)…

and disguised the rainwater tank with hanging pockets filled with plants…

added a little decorative log pile to hide the ugly gap beneath the water butt…

and hey presto!

The whole thing was barely done when the blackbird was back bathing in the pond. I watched with delight and called My Husband to come and see before thinking to grab the camera. But alas, the rascal (the blackbird, not My Husband) scarpered before I could get the lens cap off. That’s okay – I’m happy just knowing that this pond is where the blackbirds bathe.

Byddi Lee

Bluebell Fairyland at the Milford Cuttings

It feels like Armagh’s worst keep secret even though the Milford Cuttings should not be kept secret at all. It is a stunningly gorgeous walk that is especially at its best in May with its carpet of bluebells.

Managed by the Ulster Wildlife Trust, this section of disused railway track is home to the largest colony of a rare tree – the Irish whitebeam. Wildflowers grow in abundance and include several species of orchid.

It is a tricky place to find from the directions on the Ulster Wildlife site, so I’ll do my best to make my directions clearer. At the moment, is it dry underfoot because of the lack of rain recently, but keep an eye on the weather conditions. Worst case scenario, it’s a welly-boots walk, but well worth getting mucky for.

So start at Hill Street in Milford village with your back to the Monaghan Road. You’ll see an old School House on your left, a gorgeous old house set in lovely grounds to your right, and then, further along, a new development on your left.

You can park along here if you came this far by car.

You’ll pass Old Mill Court on your left, and the next lane on the same side sports a sign for the Milford Cuttings.

Turn left here. Walk over the old Iron bridge and notice how it looks like it may have been part of the railway system (I don’t know for sure if it was, but it sure looks like it.) Below you flows the Callan river – apparently, the name derives from an old Irish word for ‘Noisy’. It is lovely to hear the water gurgle past.

Follow this lane to a wooden gate (recently mended by the Ulster Wildlife Trust – thank you!)

Go through the gate and keep following the trail…

until it leads you down some wooden steps to what looks like a platform at a train station. (I believe this may be referred to as the old halt locally, but I’m not 100% certain on that.)

It’s a peaceful sun-trap nowadays. You might see frogs in the pool of water that now floods where I presume the tracks went. There’s the buzz of insects and the scent of blossom. It’s a place you could sit and read a book if you were so inclined!

Turn right and head through another wooden gate to follow the trail.

I’m guessing this section was carved out of the hill for the railway tracks. It’s incredible to think this was gouged out a couple of hundred years ago for a railway system that ran to Monaghan and beyond. Sad to think we no longer have a rail system in Armagh anymore.

Soon you’ll come to wooden steps that climb out of the cutting.

From the top, you can see glimpses of the Callan river, though not in the picture below

At the minute, white wood anemone flowers tumble down the hillside colliding with the more stately bluebells and the demure primroses clustered on banks and around tree roots.

Down some more steps…

then the trail threads through a fairyscape…

until it splits into two. Here you can choose to take the high road or the low road – both are equally gorgeous, and if you are doing an out-and-back, the two join up, and you can loop back at this point (for a shortish walk of about 1 mile)

If you fancy a longer walk, you can integrate this into the Rock Road-Ballyards loop I wrote about before. To do this, don’t close the loop. If you took the low trail, turn right, and if you took the high trail, that will be a left. Along this path at the moment, there are white clouds of Blackthorn in bloom, promising heavily laden branches of sloe berries come the autumn. I’m thinking, ‘sloe gin!’

Follow the trail right to the end, where it terminates at the remains of a bridge that once spanned the Ballyards Road below. (Below is a winter shot – an equally gorgeous time to visit the Cuttings)

Be careful when looking over the edge – there’s no fence or safety barrier. From here, double back about fifteen metres to find a gap in the hedge on the right, revealing a steep path down the bank towards the river. Be careful – I’m always scared that one slip will have me swimming in the Callan!

Follow the river bank…

until you see a rusty gate secured by a loop of barbed wire (sounds delightful!) that leads out to the Ballyards Road.

Turning right takes you back into Milford (total walk distance of about 1.2 miles). If you go left, then about half a mile later, cross a stone-walled bridge and take a left again to bring you to the Rock Road. Another left here takes you back into Armagh, where you can grab a well-earned coffee and traybake at the Espresso Bar before doubling back up to the Stormy Hill to cut over to the Monaghan road and back into Milford. For more details on this portion of the route, you can read this post from a while back. The full loop can take about 5 miles.

The Milford Cutting is a place where, on a warm summers evening, as the midges dance in clusters, you’d be forgiven for thinking it’s a gathering of the fairy folk celebrating nature. In winter, frost glistens in the bare branches of the trees and hedges. A snowfall lingers longer in the hollow of the cutting.

All year long, something stands out to make the heart swell with joy at the wonders of this world we are lucky to inhabit. The Milford Cutting truly is a magical place, and if you don’t believe me come see for yourself.

ByddLee

We're moving....

First of all, thanks for reading this blog and for your continued support.

Recently, I set up a new website for www.byddilee.com over at WordPress. They also provide an integrated blog. I have moved all my posts from this blog over to there to keep everything in the one place and for the past few months posted blogs up in both places but now I think it's time to move from Blogger fully to WordPress, which will be a challenge since I'm still learning that system.

So instead of posting the most recent post in both places - today I'm directing you to the new blog via the following link.

 https://www.byddilee.com/2019/02/exciting-news-from-flash-fiction-armagh/

I hope you continue to follow the blog over there and while you are there feel free to explore my new website.

I'm delighted to that I've signed a three-book publishing deal with Castrum Press. The first book in the Rejuvenation Trilogy is due out in early 2020.

You can subscribe to get my newsletter with all book release news direct to your inbox... 

Subscribe here

Thanks for following, your readership is much appreciated.

Byddi Lee

Guest Post by P.V. Wolseley

I like to keep things physical – no Facebook, Twitter, YouTube or Instagram – so it’s strange even to me that I’m guest-blogging for Byddi Lee. Let me tell you how this came about.

It started, as so many writerly things do, with Byddi. She stayed in Paris long enough to co-found a critiquing group and for me to get to know her a little. With her blue eyes and blond curls, Byddi is at least one part Christmas-tree fairy but with her ferocious energy, drive and loyalty, she’s two parts word-warrior queen. It was no surprise to hear that, shortly after having left Paris for Armagh, she was hustling together a flash-fiction festival that sounded like the best fun.

Two fellow Parisian writers and I decided to crash it.

‘We’ll come and support you,’ we said.

Byddi being Byddi, she declared the festival an international event and welcomed us herself, at the airport, late one Belfast night.

We drove into Armagh through the sort of blackness the City of Light has long forgotten. Having fielded perfectly sensible Parisian questions such as ‘how can people see without street lamps?’ Byddi got on with the business of narrating the night, sketching out with words the towns and orchards we couldn’t see. I quickly stopped peering into the darkness and instead listened until we reached our cosy lodgings at the Charlemont Arms Hotel.

Breakfast was big, Irish and – being shared by three writers – wordy. We somehow got onto the subject of female forebears who faced risky and multiple pregnancies. The lady waiting tables served up the best story, top trumping us as she cleared our plates: 22 children born to one woman.

This emerged as a pattern when we toured the city. It quickly became clear that there’s not a stone in Armagh that doesn’t have a tale to tell; people swap stories the way the English shake hands. I left the tourist information office not with leaflets but with tales of a sword too big to wield and a giant warrior. At the Hole in the Wall, greetings took the form of ‘What’s your story?’ and refreshments were served with a tale of unhappy love and a hanging. At Emain Macha, myths and legends were illustrated on a big screen and so enchantingly told that when I later stood on the mound, I was sure any archaeologist digging would find story on story on story, stratified.

I heard plenty of anecdotes where arrests and bombings unselfconsciously shared sentences with meals, marriages and markets days – a reminder that for many years, strife and struggle were the daily lot of many in Armagh, but it was hard not to feel optimistic as we explored the city. My fellow Parisians and I were the only ones in black. Everyone else seemed ready to put on the glam and get something going. As we walked through the Market Place Theatre & Arts Centre before closing, the receptionist put the Christmas tree lights back on for us and suggested a photo shoot. Every social interaction became a networking, sponsoring or social media opportunity. When my friend tried on a jacket that fitted like it was made to measure, a picture was taken and posted on the boutique’s Facebook page, and when the guide at Emain Macha heard our enthusiasm for myths and legends, she got out from behind the desk to share with us the excellent and beautifully illustrated Cúchulainn by Réamonn Ó Ciaráin. Wherever we went we got a small-town welcome so warm it was hard to see Armagh as a city, despite its two cathedrals and world-class museums.

It was at one of these museums – Armagh County Museum – that we enjoyed the highlight of our stay: a flash-fiction feast served up before a portrait of Seamus Heaney and his piercing eyes, painted by Colin Davidson. We feasted like gluttons on stories ranging in inspiration from the literary and celestial (A Clockwork Heart) to the local (Cás na dteifeach), and in setting from the domestic (Say’s Himself) to the parallel world of horror-erotica (Always and Forever). All pieces were read with finesse and generosity in a venue that made for a magical evening. It came to a close much too soon – which may explain why we were slow to go. I was most grateful to our kindly, informative hosts, who let us explore the museum’s treasures long after our time was up.

Next day: home to beautiful and indifferent Paris. I took time to reflect on all I’d brought back in head and heart, based on the writerly principle that if protagonists come out of a journey unchanged, they’ve not been anywhere. With such a wealth of happy memories and stories, it seemed only right to share this story by taking an uncustomary toe-dip into cyber-sea – to say a big thank you, Armagh, and à bientôt, j’espère.  

P.V. Wolseley

 

Flash Fiction Saturday Night in the Museum

His gaze is a little unsettling. Stern and aloof, he stares unflinchingly with glittering hungry eyes. It's a gaze that follows me and did back when I was a child visiting the Armagh County Museum. I wonder what he makes of the proceedings about to unfold. Every Armagh child who has visited the museum knows that stare; knows that stuffed fox. For Mr Fox has looked out from his place in the exhibits and mesmerized children for more than forty years (by my count.)

Photograph courtesy of the Armagh County Museum

Tonight, though Mr Fox has met his match in a staring competition because right in front of his furry snout is a portrait of Seamus Heany by Colin Davidson. Splendid in a wash of warm and vibrant colours the great poet looks sombre and somewhat formidable. With tables arranged in front like an altar, it feels like we are the congregation in a temple, with Flash Fiction Armagh offering up a sacrifice of literature. I search the canvas for a tweak of a lip, a hint of approval - but his expression is unyielding. It feels like he's right here with us, but I am confident... we have a fabulous lineup and I know our readers won't disappoint the great man, nor their enthusiastic audience.

 
We begin with a poem by Mark Brownlee simply called Armagh. Like a verbal tour of our city, it touches all our hearts and binds us Armachians together in a collect pride for our city.

On a similar note, Karen Mooney uses the analogy of nature to show us how much we have to gain by growing in harmony together with A More Sustainable Future.

All the way from Pittsburg USA, via Paris, Nina Francus captures our hearts and minds, as she reads her story To Wander, Lost.

In a piece that proves speculative/science fiction is a form of literature is accessible and can be widely enjoyed, Jay Faulkner reads Always and Forever.

Kerry Buchannan, from Yorkshire via Ballynahinch, enthrals us with fantasy in her beautifully written and delivered story, A Clockwork Heart.

Elaine Toal reminds us all what it is to be hurt and human in a story that has a message we might all benefit from heeding - Shattered. 

All the way from Paris, P.V Wolseley bring art to life with her masterful writing in her stories, L'Origine du Monde Speaks and La Grande Odalisque.

Réamonn Ó Ciaráin captivates the audience as he reads the story of Chúchulainn's death in Bás Chúchulainn

All the way from lovely Leitrim, via Fermanagh, Trish Bennett brings a smile to our faces and a glow to our hearts in her humorous poem Kilty Relics.

Hailing from Paris, Omaya Nasser has the audience spellbound as she reads End of the Line.

Seán Farry entertains us in Gaeilge and raises a laugh even in those of us whose Irish is limited as he recounts stories of his teaching experiences in his poems  Cás na dteifeach – Tá dhá thaobh ar an bhád and Feidhmiú an Ranga.

Sue Divins cracks open our hearts and our tear ducts with Says Himself.

Another crossing of the Blackwater River brings us Kieran Mc Gurk with his story Blobby, a cautionary tale about getting too big for your (pink and yellow spotted) boots.

From the moment he stood up, Malachi Kelly had his all grinning at his witty reminiscences in Mother, Son and Ghost.

Anne Mc Master rounded up the evening with a beautifully written and presented tongue in cheek piece on gardening - Gardener's World.


Thank you to the staff of the Armagh County Museum for their welcome and patience. Nothing was too much bother for them and everyone was very impressed with and enjoyed their evening in the Museum.

Thanks also to everyone who submits to Flash Fiction Armagh - you are what drives us and we wish you every writing success...and soon! It's a tough old business.

To every Flash Fiction attendee: Readers - we can't do this without you, Audience - there'd be no point without you.

Wishing everyone a multitude of blessing for 2019 and beyond.

Byddi Lee


 



 

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year starting with Flash Fiction Saturday Night in the Museum

I’m recycling this picture from last year mainly because it’s one of my favourite photos of Armagh and also because it’s probably the only snow we’re going to see in Armagh this Christmas and that’s fine with me because Christmas and New Years means many of us are on the roads travelling to visit loved ones and the snow makes all that difficult and dangerous. As much as I do love snow, I have an additional reason for wanting mild weather over the next few weeks – our next Flash Fiction event has drawn writers not just from as far away as Tyrone and Newry, but Flash Fiction Armagh goes international in 2019 with 3 brilliant writers coming all the way from Paris, France especially to read at Flash Fiction Saturday Night at the Museum!

We are excited to announce our line up for this event taking place in the Armagh County Museum on Saturday, 5th January 2019 at 7 pm. It’s a truly international crew this time with writers laying claim to a total of (at least) 6 nationalities and 2 continents! Flash Fiction Armagh presents:


Omaya Nasser  End of the Line
Mark Brownlee Armagh
Kieran McGurk Blobby
Seán Farry Cás na dteifeach – Tá dhá thaobh ar an bhád and Feidhmiú  an Ranga
Sue Divin  Says Himself
Elaine Toal Revisiting
Karen Mooney A More Sustainable Future
Malachi Kelly Mother Son and Ghost
Trish Bennet Kilty Relics
Jay Faulkner Always and Forever
P.V. Wolseley L’ Origine du Monde Speaks and La Grande Odalisque
Nina Francus To Wander, lost
Anne Mc Master Gardeners World
Réamonn Ó Ciaráin   Bás Chúchulainn

Have a peaceful Christmas and a wonderful New Year, and here’s hoping that 2019 brings us all a world with more tolerance and love, and don’t forget to join in the Revolution of Tenderness where you can. Click here to read a little Flash Fiction Trilogy I wrote a couple of years back…

Byddi Lee

A Great Night at the Flash Fiction in Georgian Armagh

I hear it all around me. There's a fizzle in the air, people calling greetings, reunion hugs, first meeting handshakes and mutual shoulder clapping for those readers expressing how nervous they are. A new to Flash Fiction Armagh person arrives in and I send her in the direction of the bunch mostly made up mostly from Women Aloud NI members who have all coalesced around one table.

"Just tell them you're here by yourself and they'll welcome you," I say, but to be fair, such is our audience that you could sit down at any table and you'd be knee deep in conversation in two seconds flat.

I see her safely absorbed into the craic before she even makes it to the table I'd pointed out. I give folk little more time to be social. The bistro staff are working flat-out to get everyone organised but luckily no-one is stamping feet and singing, "Why are we waiting?" We're in a happy place.

I breathe a sigh of relief that we've filled the room and only need a couple of extra chairs brought in - a perfect crowd for a perfect night.

Watching the room fill up before the event.

One final check that there are no late lingerers still downstairs, then I give Réamonn Ó Ciarán the thumbs up and we're off. The stories wow us - each and every one. But don't take my word for it, watch for yourselves. Each one speaks for itself...

Christopher Moore's story Solitude is superbly written and keeps us hooked right to the end.

First time Flash Fictioner, Rachel Toner takes the floor and wows the audience with Inferno.

No-one can believe this is Patricia Hanlon's first time reading her work, when she enthrals us with her extract from Kirty's  Vow, leaving us all asking, "Where/when can we buy this book." 

Terry Hickland entertains us from his beautifully written forthcoming novel, The Piano Boat.

We share in Maureen Boyle's heartache as she read her short story Box Room, and admire the sweater the story references her knitting.

From deepest darkest Tyrone, Kieran Mc Gurk reads Zaragoza and the room hanging on his every word and accents (some of which I reckon are not from Tyrone!)

I bring us into the intermission with  A Thick Foundation. 

After the break Réaltán Ní Leannáin expertly brings us through her excerpt from her novel set in Malta and written in Irish, Cití na gCártaí, cleverly bridging the language barrier so everyone can enjoy both the story and the language it is written in.

Cathy Carson makes us all sit up and take notice with her amazing performance of Wake Up Call from memory - a new and higher setting of the bar in Flash Fiction Armagh!

Mahogany is Peter Hollywood's thrilling story about a knife fight and keeps us all on the edge of our seats.

Gaynor Kane gives us a wry smile as she recounts a strange decision by the Highway Patrol in Oregan in Jonah and the Whale. 

A stunning theatrical performance by Rose Tumilty of Hunter's Moon O'er Airgialla steps us back in history and lore.

Eddie Mc Clenaghan's fresh take on a teched-up Santa brings the smiles to our faces with The Night Before Christmas Was Cool.

Christmas Disaster by Doreen Mc Bride has us all laughing, ending the evening on a high was is still being discussed "up the town" on Saturday when I bump into audience members at the Georgian Festival. 

It's fair to say that the Flash Fiction events are going from strength to strength and that's due to the fabulous teamwork of the writers who submit such excellent work, the audience who support them and the wonderful venues we've been lucky enough to have host us.

If watching these videos has given you some inspiration, submission's are open until 5th December 2018 for the Flash Fiction Saturday Night in the Museum taking place on 5th January 2019 in Armagh County Museum. So get those stories in asap!

Byddi Lee

Armagh Literary Scene Presents...

I seriously cannot believe my good fortune - there's just so much going on in the literary scene in Armagh that I find myself swinging from one event to the next!

Last Friday night, I was proud to be included in a contingent from Women Aloud NI who were invited as special guests to the always wonderful Open Mic Night in the Abbey Lane Theatre. I'm a huge fan of this establishment and always have a grand old evening there but it was with a double pride that I presented it to my sistas from Women Aloud NI and vice versa. Each group wowed the other and rightly so. The readings were deep, rich, lewd and entertaining in equal measure and doubled down by the musical acts and poetry from regulars, it added up to a brilliant night. It filled me up with that "ah, my wee Armagh" glow that warms my heart so often these days.

The John O Connor Festival begins on the 1st November and I'm excited about volunteering, attending and reading at the festival.

To see what's on, have a look at the programme.

And last but certainly by no means least, Flash Fiction in Georgian Armagh is pleased to announce it's line up for the event taking place on 22nd November 2018 at 7pm upstairs in Mulberry Bistro during Armagh's amazing Georgian Festival. And what a lineup!

In no particular order, congratulations to,

Kerry Buchanan	Only a Clockwok Heart
Réaltán Ní Leannáin	Excerpt from Cití na gCártaí to be published in 2019 with Cois Life Press
Christopher Moore	Solitude
Maureen Boyle	Box Room
Eddie McClenaghan	The Night Before Christmas Was Cool
Rosemary Tumilty	Hunter’s Moon O’er Airgialla
Peter Hollywood	Mahogany
Doreen Mc Bride	Christmas Disaster
Kieran McGurk	Zaragoza
Terry Hickland	extract from the forthcoming novel The Piano Boat
Gaynor Kane	Jonah and the Whale
Cathy Carson	Wake Up Call
Patricia Hanlon	Extract from Kirsty's Vow
Rachel Toner	Inferno
Byddi Lee	A Thick Foundation

For more information on events during the Georgian Festival please check out their website.

Byddi Lee