Driving through the Irish Countryside

We have seen much of Ireland so far through the large windows of our comfortable bus. Here are some highlights:

This is a well preserved portal tomb, one of many that lie amongst the rocky landscape.


Since "fairy trees" can be oak or ash as well as hawthorne, this lonely tree could be one. The cow probably knows but isn't telling. My guess is that the source of his rapt attention is a fairy's tale of pilgrims from faraway lands who love to point cameras in every direction in the hopes of capturing a fairy on film, a futile enterprise. I'll keep trying anyway.



The village of Adare has it all --- a beautiful church, thatched cottages, gardens, a city park and lots of little shops. Our group is generously supporting the Irish economy.






This is one of many rather elaborate roadside shrines. Our Lady of Lourdes, is a favorite of the Irish, it seems.


A quick stop in Macroom (in Gaelic, Maigh Chromtha which means "crooked plain") where we bought some apples at a small outdoor market. All of the road signs in Ireland display names in both English and Gaelic. Interesting fact about this town for Americans is that it's the birthplace of Admiral Sir William Penn, father of William Penn after whom Pennsylvania is named. [Grandchildren who are reading this, take note. There might be a quiz later, with prizes of course.]


Here is the location of our third stay, second retreat center --- Myross Wood near the tiny village of Leap (pronounced "lep") in West County Cork. It looks like a country estate which it probably was at one time. Many rooms were added to the back, and it became a place for retreats. There is a tidal lake nearby, woods and a well-tended, lovely garden.



Our favorite days are those that start with one of Fr. Michael's beautiful Masses. A glimpse of the garden can be seen through the windows.



Hydrangeas grow well in Ireland and are everywhere.


We walked through the woods to see Leap across the lake. Idyllic, a painting in real time.


We left Myross Wood on a glorious morning and had driven only fifteen minutes when Martin stopped the bus in Gland0re and gruffly ordered us to "Get off the bus!" (This is his signature signal for getting us to move. We're going to miss hearing it.) We stayed longer than we should have - you can see why - to eat scones, drink tea, drink in the view and check our email. Wonder of wonders, the cafe had free wi-fi.


We'll pause here and let you enjoy the view. More to come!

Location:Southern Ireland

Ballyvaughn, County Clare

We loved our three days in Ballyvaughn and nearby sites amidst the Burren (a Gallic word referring to a high, rocky area). The highlight was visiting the grave of John O'Donohue, poet and priest who died unexpectedly in his sleep at the age of 53. Fr. Michael celebrated Mass here in the ruins of a 900 year old church. With wind blowing down from the Burren to the sea below, it was a poem that John O'Donohue might have written. We left tokens there with prayers for all of you reading this.















The Hylands Burren Hotel

















This is what a full iirsh breakfast looks like, The mushrooms are yummy. The two patties are called white and black pudding (sausage).
















The upstairs lounge where I found another 'happy place,' the white sofa in the corner, and our comfortable room.


























Kim enjoying the peat fire in the lobby.


Monk, the farmer, selling his potatoes at the weekly farmer' market. Yes, he's a former monk.








































The resting place of the O'Donohues.

Fr. Michael recited John O'Donohue's "To Come Home to Yourself" as the final blessing of the Mass:

May all that is unforgiven in you
Be released.

May your fears yield
Their deepest tranquilities.

May all that is unloved in you
Blossom into a future
Graced with love.
















"Anyone want a carrot?" Robin, whose son Joe owns Dirty Girls Produce in Santa Cruz, offers to share the bounty.















We stopped at the Cliffs of Moher where strong winds and 700 vertical feet occasionally combine to blow people off the cliffs. We were careful to stay on the inland side of the walls, though others seemed compelled to climb over. They are relatives, no doubt, of those who climb down to the rocks below Lighthouse Point in Santa Cruz and over the rails in Yosemite. What a gorgeous part of the planet.




St .Brigid's Well, a pilgrimage site where the sick come to be cured.






















Fr. Michael blesses us with Brigid's water.











Do you remember the story about the fairy tree by the side of a major highway and the decision to move the highway after there'd been many accidents there? Eddie Lenihan, an Irish storyteller, was the person behind that decision. He has compiled books and tapes of oral histories recounting the presence of fairies in the land and lives of the Irish. Here he is in the hotel's pub regaling us with authentic tales. We bought a CD containing six of his stories, so we can relive the experience. (Martin, our driver, described him as "a hairy fellow.")









































Fr. Michael concelebrated Mass on Sunday with Fr. Richard Flanagan who, in his homily, quoted Nelson Mandela's speech on forgiveness after he was released from thirty years in prison. It was amusing to watch the altar server (Conor) perform his duties with a bit of delightful Irish cockiness.














We tried to make our way to the Burren for a short walk, but there was, as the Irish might say, too much slog on the bog. We've been catching the edge of one of the hurricanes, thus the bluster and wetness.

Galway

The Esker Retreat House, Athenry, Co. Galway was our home for three nights. It turned out to be a quiet and peaceful place to begin our pilgrimage. (The first night's whistles and groanings must have been an extension of the day's sight-seeing amongst graves and ruins.) The food was surprisingly good, all local products and grass-fed beef, the only kind of meat produced in Ireland both for Irish and European consumption. Our first morning began in prayer with words of guidance from Fr. Michael to "look for the spark" in each sacred place, the spark or grace or spirit that inhabits it and is waiting for you to ignite and carry to the world.





























Our first stop was at the Rathbaun Farm where we met Fenton the Farmer and Ted the dog (a young border collie who hardly ever stopped moving and reminded us of Bella, Jerry and Lydia's dog). Fenton looks heroic in the photo below, doesn't he? He sheared a sheep and put Ted to his paces herding a small flock of sheep. Because Ted is young and hasn't been trained yet, he "made a simple job very complicated," according to Fenton. We were impressed, however. We were invited into the farm house for scones, jam, whipped cream and tea. It was heavenly, and the farm has been added to our growing list of "happy places."

This is Kylemore Abbey, once a palatial estate built for Margaret Henry, mother of nine, by her doting husband, Mitchell, doctor and tycoon. Unfortunately, she died in Egypt of dysentery in her early '40s, and the estate was bought by the Duke of Manchester who squandered it gambling. It was finally purchased in 1928 by Benedictine nuns who have run it as a retreat center ever since.






The coast near Galway with the Aran Islands in the distance.







Galway's musicians are world-famous, and here are some just getting started on their careers.































The Galway Cathedral.








The Corrib River, Ireland's shortest river, which runs through the city of Galway.








Front door of the Cathedral, which is a fairly new edifice, and some of Galway's citizens crossing the bridge.