Expats in Ireland

November 2009

noreply@blogger.com (Chrys and Bill) — Mon, 07 Dec 2009 11:01:00 +0000

Rest In Peace, Sonya

November was a month of downs and ups, starting with the loss of our sweet little blind dog, Sonya. She had been doing so well on the heart medication that we thought she would keep going for another year or two. She suddenly got very ill at the beginning of the month and it turned out to be renal failure, in part from the heart medicine and diuretics that were helping her heart, but also due to old age and a weakened immune system from all the health problems she had over the last few years.

It was so hard to let her go. She had a great life for her first nine years, running around in the hills of Newfield NY when we were hiking or cross-country skiing. And she was such a trooper about going blind two years ago and then being relocated to a different country.

It's the first time I have been without a dog in 26 years and it feels very strange. But it will be easier for us to travel now, so we are not going to rush into getting another dog any time soon.

Floods

November was also a traumatic month for thousands of people who were affected by devastating flooding, particularly in the western counties of Clare, Galway, Cork, Kerry and Tipperary.

Floodwaters poured over this wall at the grounds of St. Flannan's College, a private secondary school in Ennis. This is usually a grassy lawn and parking area.

Ireland is a watery place. Not only does it fall from the sky almost daily, but there are rivers and lakes everywhere. After a few weeks of moderate rains that completely saturated the soil, there was one particular day of intense rain that fell for hours and hours. Many of Ireland's rivers, like the Shannon, are tidal, and there happened to be a super high tide that day. So there was no where for all that water to go, and rivers all over western Ireland spilled over banks and retaining walls and filled towns and cities with several feet of water.

The town name Ennis comes from the Irish word inis, which means 'island'. The town is surrounded by the River Fergus, a tributary of the River Shannon. A higher flood control wall is being built next to the river, but it is not finished yet and the river flowed down the main street of Ennis, or as it was dubbed by the local paper, Vennis. (Someone else took these first four photos - I took them off a Facebook site.)

These businesses were severely flooded - bad timing with Christmas right around the corner. Insurance companies here are saying that with climate change flooding will become more frequent, so of course they are going to raise the rates for those in currently affected areas.

I took these daytime photos about 5 days after the flooding started. The water was still very high - right up to the bottom of this bridge in Ennis.

The River Fergus is now Loch Fergus. You can see how high the water is on the trunks of these submerged trees.

A schoolyard and tennis courts in Ennis.

Thanksgiving Party

After a tough month, everyone needed a lift so we decided to have a Thanksgiving party. Originally we thought we would have a small sit-down dinner, but it turned out everyone wanted to come to a real American Thanksgiving, despite the fact that it was a Thursday and no-one here has the next day off. Before we knew it we had 30 guests and were scrambling to borrow chairs from the neighbors!

These folks were quick off the mark and got to sit down while they ate.

Other people were still lining up for food.

After dinner and dessert (pumpkin, apple and pecan pies!)we had a music session around the fire - alternating old-time with trad.

Ballybeg Wood

We recently discovered Ballybeg Wood, a nice area with walking trails just a few miles from our house.

Partridge berry

Happy News!

At the end of November, after two rounds of interviews, I was offered the position of project manager at the Irish Seedsavers Association. I am delighted to finally find a suitable position for my background and experience, and Seedsavers is an amazing organization that is doing very good work, preserving and propagating the fruits and vegetable varieties that have been historically grown in this country but are in danger of being lost. They also run a very comprehensive range of classes and workshops throughout the year. My first day on the job is Wednesday, December 9.

Check out Irish Seedsavers' website for more about what they do.

I'll be driving about 30 miles each way to my job in east Clare. I bought a little 1998 Nissan Micra, which gets about 40-50 mpg, for my daily commute.

And on another happy note, here's a picture of my daughter Monica and her boyfriend Matt, on the California seashore. They recently relocated from Santa Monica further south to San Diego, where Monica is studying at the University of San Diego.

October 2009

noreply@blogger.com (Chrys and Bill) — Mon, 09 Nov 2009 17:01:00 +0000

The first half of October followed September's trend of sunny, mild weather. The leaves don't really change color here - they stay green and then all just seem to be gone one morning, usually after a particularly windy night. Like these trees behind our cottage - they were green one day, bare the next.

The veg garden in early October - fall peas, cosmos and cabbage.

Climbing Carrauntoohil
October's clear skies invited us to take a day trip to County Kerry, just south of us, to climb Carrauntoohil, the highest mountain in Ireland (1,039 meters or 3,408 feet). It can be a dangerous climb if it's foggy or misty in the mountains (which is most of the time) and people have lost their lives on Carrauntoohil when bad weather conditions took them by surprise. We were lucky to have clear weather coincide with a weekend, and with the shortening days there was just enough daylight to drive to the trailhead and make it up the mountain and back down before nightfall. (Theoretically, anyway. More about that later.)

We started our trip on the car ferry that crosses the River Shannon between Clare and Kerry. This cuts off about 85 miles of driving the long way around through Limerick.

From the foothills, looking back to the lake where we started our climb.

Heading up the first hill. This ridge is shaped like a horseshoe, with Carrauntoohil, Ireland's highest mountain, at the apex of the horseshoe flanked by Ireland's second and third highest mountains on either side. This walking loop is 7 miles and ascends six different peaks. The next day our legs felt broken and we spent a lot of time sitting down.

Bushwackin' Bill leads the way. You can see the horseshoe shape of the ridge in this photo - we started by going up the first hill on the left, then continued from left to right across the ridge at the top of the photo, and back along the ridge on the right.

Sittin' on top of the world

On top of the second peak - the other mountains that we'll climb on the return trip are visible across the deep valley.

Resting on the peak of Ireland's second-highest mountain, with the highest, Carrauntoohil, looming behind me.

We had to cross this razor-back ridge (middle of photo) to get to the base of Carrauntoohil on the left.

There's a surreal, Tolkein-esque look to these mountains.

A cross at the top commemorates some of the mountain's victims.

Purple shale and green lichen form abstract patterns on the steep mountain sides.

And check out what that little sign says:

The fog was starting to roll in and cover nearby mountain tops. Time to get going - we still had a few hours of walking.....

..... and two more peaks to scale before the descent.

Looking out to the sea and Dingle Peninsula in the far distance. Even though Carrauntoohil is only 3,400 feet - lower than the high peaks of the Adirondacks in New York - the Irish mountains feel much higher because they surrounding area is at sea level.

Looking back at Carrauntoohil, now starting to get fogged in.

Having a sos beag (Irish for "a little rest") as the sun sets slowly in the west. Due to a couple of unforeseen circumstances that morning too lengthy to go into here (a lost dog followed by car trouble) we got on the trail about 3 hours later than we intended. The last hour of the walk was in full dark, but it wasn't too bad since we had flashlights and were back down in the foothills by then.

Vegetarian Cooking Class

In September and October I taught a 6 night vegetarian cooking class, using the commercial kitchen at a performing arts center in Ennis. The classes booked out quickly with a waiting list of people who wanted to get in, so they are going to run again in February. I'd never taught cooking before but it was a lot of fun and great to be back in a teaching role again.

Each night focused on a different type of ethnic cooking: Italian (lasagne and polenta with mushroom sauce); Mediterranean (cous-cous and spanokopita); Japanese (nori rolls and miso soup); Mexican (nachos and burritos); Thai (green curry and an appetizer called miang kam) and American (cornbread and Hoppin' John, a southern black-eyed pea stew).

Dublin

We met another friendly musician and he invited us to Dublin to hang out for a few days. Barney Bowes plays fiddle (what an appropriate last name for a fiddler!) and banjo, and we kept running into him at various sessions and festivals this summer. We got to talking and it turns out one of his sons is building a house in Clare, so when Barney was around in September we had him over to the cottage to play a bunch of tunes. He returned the invitation and invited us up to Dublin, which we had (amazingly!) not visited in almost two years of living here.

Christchurch Cathedral - we stayed in apartment belonging to a friend of Barney's, just around the corner from here in the center of town. It was a quick visit - we left Clare on a Saturday morning and came back on Sunday evening. While we were in Dublin we did some sightseeing and played at an oldtimey session on Saturday night, and a mixed session (trad, bluegrass, oldtime and ballads) on Sunday afternoon.

An enclosed bridge from the cathedral leads to a Dublin history museum across the street.

In the museum - my Joan of Arc impression.

The bell tower at Trinity College

The cobbled courtyard at Trinity College

Grafton Street, a lively pedestrian area near Trinity College

The pond at St. Stephen's green - kind of a mini-Central Park in the middle of Dublin.

The river Liffey divides Dublin in two, crossed by some lovely old footbridges.

Nice fresco on this building

Fresco detail - a humble depiction of women washing clothes in the river

There are no tall skyscrapers in Dublin, but lots of these types of grand buildings - it reminded me a bit of Washington, DC.

A late October misty morning in County Clare

September 2009

noreply@blogger.com (Chrys and Bill) — Wed, 07 Oct 2009 16:23:00 +0000

September was gorgeous in Ireland - lots of sun and almost no rain for the entire month! It helped make up for another record-breaking wet August. We took advantage of the nice weather and got around to some nice places.

Sean Nos Dancing

Sean nos (pronounced 'shan-noess') is an Irish expression meaning 'old style', and it refers to a free-form style of dancing that is the granddaddy to tap dancing and Appalachian clogging. The dancers wear hard soled shoes that beat out the rhythm to the trad tune being played.

Then there's brush dancing, a particular type of sean nos dance that's done with a push broom, which they call a brush here.

Isn't is so like the Irish to invent a lively little dance using a common household cleaning implement? What would the American equivalent be - the vacuum cleaner dance?

A local village was advertising free dance classes at their tradfest in early September so I headed over there to try my hand, err, feet, at brush dancing. The ad said to bring your own brush. As I stood in the classroom with my brush waiting for the dance class to start, I noticed that everyone else in the class was less than 5 feet tall. Including the teachers. It turns out that I was the only adult in the class.

To add to my embarrassment there were some parents standing at the side of the room to watch their little ones dance, and they probably assumed that I was there with a child until it came time to line up and start the lesson.

A little boy standing next to me in the line clutched his brush and said to me, 'I'm scared.' I said, 'Me too.' Then he said, 'Are your parents making you do this?'. 'No, my parents live in America. I wanted to do this.' He looked a tad disappointed to hear this, then the class then started and much dropping of brooms ensued.

Here are some of the little kids in the class learning the brush dance. (I was in the 'bigger kids' group on the other side of the room):

Our dancing teachers(two brothers) then demonstrated some sean nos dancing:

And then a 75 year old man, let me repeat that, a 75 year old man did some fine sean nos dancing for us:

I've just started taking a weekly sean nos dance class at a nearby community center. Maybe someday you'll see a video of me dancing here......by the time I'm 75 I should have the hang of it.

Galtee Mountains

The Galtees are in central Tipperary, about 2 hours southeast of us. It's a small mountain range that rises up from the fertile Tipp farmlands. We drove over for a day hike one fine Sunday in September.

Looking up at the Galtees from farmland below

Walking up the rocky road, with Galtymor ('Big Galtee') in the distance.

Traversing the bogland to the summit.

This side of the hill is sheer cliffs.

Check out the sheep grazing right above the cliffs! Irish sheep are bred with legs on one side shorter than the other so they can stand upright on steep hillsides.

Views of the Galtees and the valley below.

Go on, Bill, I dare you to stand on that rock.
I double dare you!

Now my turn - uh, this looks a bit scarey!

Ta-da!

Taking a cookie break on the way down

Views of the Knockmealdon mountains in west Tipp

Hello and Goodbye to Willa

Our friend Willa, who spent some time with us in August, spent a couple more days around Ennis before flying off to rendezvous with some friends in Poland and then a few days in Portugal before heading back to Pennsylvania.

We spent a day driving along the west coast of Clare, from the beach town of Kilkee to the lighthouse at Loop Head.

Brrrr! Bill and Willa went swimming in the rock pools of Kilkee harbour, despite the cool, cloudy skies.

After the swim we walked along the cliffs of Kilkee.

The sea beats against the base of the cliffs, forming sea caves like this one.

Eventually the sea erodes completely through the cliff, forming a sea arch and then ultimately a sea stack, like these. There are building foundations visible on top of some of the stacks, from when the stacks were still connected to the mainland. Ireland is visibly shrinking!

The water in the foreground goes right under the ground at my feet and out the other side.

Cool wavy rock formation with tiny people on top.

On the Atlantic edge

An impressive sea arch at the Bridges of Ross

Willa on the sea arch

The lighthouse at Loop Head. This is where the River Shannon meets the sea.

You can see four different sea arches forming along this section of the coastline.

Contemplating the void

Cottage Gardens

I sowed a lot of annuals from seed this spring, and the flower gardens are still really lovely with cosmos, nasturtiums, calendula, bachelor buttons, dahlias and annual lupines in bloom.

The veg garden is still producing, but we notice growth is slowing down now that the days are getting shorter. In this part of the garden you can see purple cabbage, a trellis of sugar snap peas, kale, leeks and salad greens.

Flower power!

August 2009

noreply@blogger.com (Chrys and Bill) — Sat, 05 Sep 2009 19:32:00 +0000

Willa the wwoofer

We hosted our first wwoofer* in early August. Our garden is still relatively small and we hadn't planned on having wwoofers this year, but Willa is good friends with Eileen and Heather, who are renting our house back in Ithaca. Willa's been wwoofing in England and Ireland this summer and got in touch with us to see if we could use help in our garden for a few days in August.
(*WWOOF = Worldwide Opportunities on Organic Farms. Wwoofers work on farms in exchange for room and board.)

Willa helped with weeding and mulching in the garden, and cooking and picking veggies for the farmers market. She was a great help and lovely company to have around.

Here we are rolling up the nori rolls (vegetable sushi) for the market

We took Willa to north Clare to do a little sightseeing. In the top photo she is standing under a Romanesque doorway to a 12th century church. Here's a closer view of the carvings on the doorway.

The weird thing about this doorway is that the animals seem to be elephants, tigers and monkeys, and the faces have a distinctly Asian look to them. Remember this was carved in 12th century Ireland, so why an Asian motif?

A round tower next to the old church. This was used in times of Viking invasions -note the doorway on the second floor.

We took Willa to the Feakle trad fest in east Clare. While Bill played at one of the pub sessions, Willa and I watched some high energy set dancing at the ceili. Set dancing is a lot like square dancing, with four sets of couples facing each other in a square and doing the swinging and wife-swapping bits.

The main difference is that there's no caller telling the dancers which steps to do next, everyone just seems to know what to do. Irish set dancers also do these kind of loud, clogging steps while they dance. This is called battering. In this video, the set of couples on the right are doing some really lively battering.

The steps beat out the rhythm of the tune and give the dancers some extra bounce. The Irish just seem to have a way of doing everything with gusto!

Of course, we had to take Willa to the Burren to climb to the top of Mullagh Mor.

The sky was overcast and brooding, and the wind at the top was strong enough to take the shirt right off your back.

The view from the top of Mullagh Mor: a neighboring hill, sculpted by glaciers, erosion, wind and time.

At Poulnabrone, a huge stone dolmen (pre-Celtic tomb). I think Fred Flintstone lived in one like this.

There are mostly just heathers flowering in the Burren at this time of year. Here is a small-flowered, delicate pale pink species of heather......

......and here's another one with large hot-pink flowers.
(These photos are for you, Heather!)

The Sanford Invasion

In the middle of August Bill's family - sister Carolyn, brother-in-law Randie, nephews Daniel and Eric, and Bill's mom Helen - came to visit for 10 days . We took them to the four distinctly different regions of Clare - the beautiful southern coastline of the River Shannon as it makes its way to the Atlantic; the dramatic sea cliffs of west Clare; the Burren to the north; and the wooded lake region of east Clare. They saw plenty of castles, cows, rocks, and rain, plus a few rainbows.

They came, they saw......they played hackey-sack. The lads also played hackey-sack all over Clare, much to the amusement and befuddlement of the Irish, who apparently have neither seen nor heard of this sport.

Preparing to storm Carrigaholt castle on the south coast of Clare.

Holding on tight in gale force winds at Loop Head in west Clare

I had a birthday party while the Sanford/Carini's were here. It was lovely earlier in the day and we optimistically put up the canopy and outdoor tables and chairs, but it ended up to be a wet night so the party was mostly indoors after all.

The usual eatin' and drinkin' and chattin'.

An early trad session in our bedroom......

......and then one in the main room.

Dan learning to play the bodhran.

A late night old-timey session.

At the base of Bunratty Castle

Back at the cottage, relaxing after a long day of sightseeing

One day we went to the Burren to help out with an archeological dig. We dug through the soil with trowels and small shovels, looking for anything significant.

We didn't find anything amazing that day, but later in the week they found a bronze dress pin (11th-13th C.), an arrowhead and a piece of neolithic pottery.Click here to see photos of this year's finds at the archeological dig.

Later that evening we had our friends Russ and Laura and their two musical kids, Quinn and Molly, over for another little birthday celebration and a session.

The next day we had great weather, so we went west to the Cliffs of Moher.

The whole gang at the cliffs, with the Aran Islands in the background.

Look out, Uncle Bill!!

Too cold for a swim, but at least Carolyn and Dan were brave enough to give it a try. Unlike the rest of us wimps who stayed bundled up on the beach.

Monkeying around in the ringfort at Cragganowen history park.

Randie (a Shoshone) with the obvious answer to this question.

We poked around inside the ruin of Quinn Abbey on our way home.

Bill, Carolyn and Helen inside the cloisters at Quinn Abbey.

More relaxing after another hard day of sightseeing.

On their last day, we drove eastward to Lough Derg, the long, narrow glacial lake that forms the border between Clare and Tipperary.

A final game of hacky sack, this time in warrior Brian Boru's ringfort.

We played a wild game of tag in this cool maze of tunnels, bridges and shrubbery labyrinth.

Randie mastered the art of levitation when he was "it".

The boys hide their disappointment at the dinkyness of this neolothic tomb, which we scaled a stone wall, crashed through brambles and walked through a mucky cow field to find.

For more photos from their trip to Ireland, and especially for videos of people playing music and singing (mine came out too dark) check out Carolyn's photo album

Dunmore East Bluegrass Festival
Right after the Sanfords flew back to America, Bill and I went to a bluegrass festival in County Waterford, in the southeast corner of Ireland. This is the banana belt (ok, maybe the strawberry belt) of Ireland. Sure enough, we drove out of the Atlantic mist and rain of Clare into the blazing sunshine of the "sunny southeast".

Dunmore East is a beautiful little coastal village set on the end of a sandstone peninsula that juts out into the Irish sea. Something about it reminded me of Newport, RI, but with thatched roof cottages.

At other times Dunmore East reminded me of northern California.

Our friend Tom Hanway, who told us about this great festival, was gigging with two different bands that weekend but he still found time to sing and play a few tunes outside the pub on Saturday afternoon. (Note that the nice banjo pickin' you hear is not me at all but Tom. I didn't know this tune at all and I'm just plunking along quietly trying to pick it up.)

This came out a bit dark, but it's a pub session we played in early Sunday afternoon. (That's me trying to sing Old Joe Clark over twelve instruments.) Nice harmonica playing by the dude on the right.

This future rock star, Fionn, played his guitar at concerts and sessions all weekend long.

Relaxing on the grounds of my manse.

July 2009

noreply@blogger.com (Chrys and Bill) — Sun, 26 Jul 2009 19:15:00 +0000

Sonya's Big Heart
We always knew that our dog Sonya had a big heart, metaphorically speaking, but this year she developed a big heart in the physical sense as well, and this was not a good thing. She developed a deep cough in May and after going through the antiobiotics administered by the vet with no improvement, we had her in for x-rays and found that she has an enlarged left ventricle.

Poor puppy - first Lyme disease, then total blindness and now heart disease. Fortunately it is treatable and she has been on a diuretic and a new medication that reduces the swelling of her heart. The cough has lessened considerably, she shed a lot of the water weight that was making her sore, and she has more energy these days. In the video at the top of the page she's taking her daily walk/trot - not too bad for an old blind dog.

Playin' Tunes
For the first week of July we spent every evening at the Willie Clancy trad festival in Milltown Malbay, near the sea. Bill got to play his flute at lots of different sessions while I minded the pints of Guinness.

For me, the highlight of Willie Clancy week was meeting Tom Hanway, an American banjo player who now lives in County Longford with his Irish wife Denise. I walked into one of the Milltown pubs and Tom was there playing Irish tunes but in bluegrass style. When Tom took a break from playing, I introduced myself and told him that I also play 5-string banjo (the Irish banjo only has 4 strings - no drone string). Tom replied, "I've had enough of playing trad - let's sit outside somewhere and play some American tunes!" And that's what we did for the next 3 nights.

At the end of Willie Week we invited Tom and Denise to come and stay at the cottage for the night before heading back to Longford. We played tunes late into the night.....

......and the next morning we played, appropriately, a tune called "Whiskey Before Breakfast". It turned out to be a very wet Monday so we continued to trade tunes back and forth all day before Tom and Denise had to head home where Daisy the cat was waiting for them.

Tom has played and recorded with some bluegrass heavyweights, including Tony Trischka, Sam Bush, Jerry Douglas and Vassar Clements. Check out Tom's website at Tom Hanway.com

Galway City

A few weeks later Tom and Denise were housesitting for friends in Galway, about an hour away. We went up to stay with them and see Tom play at one of his gigs. We were playing tunes in the backyard and Tom suggested we do some busking on the streets of Galway. Bill and I had never busked before, but it was really fun once we got used to the crowds walking by, some stopping to listen, take our photos, and occasionally toss some coins into the case.

The busy streets of Galway's pedestrian area.

Soundcheck before Tom's gig with the Molly Hicks at the Crane Bar, Galway.

A couple of wonderfully kitschy gardens in Galway. A rolling ceramic puppy, Kermit the Frog.......

....and a plethora of gnomes!

Gardens

This was a fun landscaping project we worked on in July, transforming this boring square of grass.......

.....into a raised bed for flowers and salad greens, a wee path, and (out of sight on the left side) a recessed space for rubbish bins and a bicycle.

Misc.
Bill shelling out a heap of broad beans (aka fava beans) for the freezer.

We participated in a multicultural event in Ennis as the American representatives. We made samples of "American" food - corn bread and Hoppin' John, a black-eyed pea stew that is traditionally eaten on New Year's Day for good luck through the coming year.

And of course we made our annual pilgrimage to the Burren to see the orchids in bloom, this time with our friends Rachel and Bernard.

Burren Orchids.

June 2009

noreply@blogger.com (Chrys and Bill) — Sun, 12 Jul 2009 21:51:00 +0000

Our new neighbor. The only thing stopping this big boy from getting into our veg garden is a 3' tall wooden fence. Fortunately he still thinks the grass is greener on his side of the fence.

Mountshannon Festival
At the beginning of June the weather was quite hot for about a week. It was up in the mid to high 80's - the hottest weather we've ever experienced in Ireland. Lots of pale Irish skin exposed to the sun, and actual beads of sweat - what a novelty.

The hot weather coincided with the Mountshannon Music and Arts Festival. Mountshannon is a small town on the shores of Lough Derg in East Clare, and one of the events was a free boat ride to Holy Island for Irish music and a children's performance.

It's called Holy Island because this was an important monastic site in the middle ages. There is an intact round tower and the ruins of five churches on the tiny island, the oldest church dating back to the 7th century.

Now the only inhabitants of the island are Holy Cows.

The island was a fantastic setting for a live performance of traditional music on harp and box accordian.

Back on the mainland, there was live music under the tent and lots of people out catching rays.

I tried to hide from the sun while Bill turned into a unicorn.

Some friends of ours performed in the tent. Adam (fiddler on the left) and Jon (banjo player with the neon red shirt) are both Americans who moved here for the music scene.

There were displays by not-for-profit organizations, and hands-on activities for the kids. East Clare is home to a lot of alternative-type folks (mostly blow-ins like ourselves) and seeing the yurts, tie-dye shirts and bearded men reminded me a lot of Ithaca.

Playing Music
Bill played at a mighty session at a friend's outdoor party. There were about 20 musicians and the music went into the wee hours.

We met a piper when he hired us to do some gardening work. We hit it off and invited him to come back to our cottage for dinner and tunes. Andy plays the uillean pipes, the Irish version of bagpipes, but much nicer sounding than bagpipes and not so blaring.

Andy even learned to play some old-timey banjo tunes on the pipes. 'Cluck Old Hen' sounds amazing on the pipes and Andy was even doing some cool chicken sounds!

Voting the Old-Fashioned Way
I got to vote in the local and EU parliament elections. It was wonderfully low-tech - just a paper ballot, a pencil and a ballot box!

Stuffing my ballot into the box - no hanging chads here! The election workers thought we were funny for wanting to take a picture of this.

Solstice Party
We celebrated the longest day of the year with an outdoor party for about 35 friends and neighbors. Sunset on June 21 was at 10:30 pm, but with a long dusk it was light until almost midnight. (The further north you go the longer the dusk, whereas at the equator is gets dark very quickly once the sun has set.)

After-dinner chat and drinks. Later we played music and sang songs.

These little French-Irish boys toasted marshmallows for the first time ever and loved it.

Gardens and Landscaping
Our flower gardens looked fantastic in June. I started loads of annuals from seed this spring, including 300 orange and yellow nasturtiums, which really thrive in the cool, moist climate.

The veg garden in June. It's been a really nice summer - quite a bit of heat and sun, but not too dry. So much better than the deluge of 2008! In June we were harvesting peas, broad beans, mixed salad greens, spinach, kale, and our first tomato from the polytunnel.

And lots and lots of strawberries from a patch we started just last spring. Most of this batch ended up in the freezer, to be made into strawberry jam when we get a rainy indoor day.

Our favorite landscaping job in June was the transformation of this town plot of just grass and weeds.......

.....into this landscaped garden with trees, shrubs, perennials and a new brick path. We will be putting in a small pond and stream later this summer.

Sadly, we won't make it home for the Grassroots Festival this month. We're super busy with a lot going on this coming week and weekend - including a job interview for a horticulture position that I really want, so keep your fingers crossed for me this Thursday!

We also want to save our travel funds to fly our daughter Monica here this fall, and to take a trip ourselves in the fall to some European destination. But we'll be at Grassroots in spirit, so do some wild dancing for us!!

Slan!

noreply@blogger.com (Chrys and Bill) — Sat, 06 Jun 2009 21:51:00 +0000

May 2009

My parents' visit - sea and mountains

My Mom and Dad came to visit for a week in early May. The first few days were wild and windy, and we drove along the coast road to Loop Head, braving the gale force winds to view the stunning cliffs of Clare.

On the weekend we headed north to Connemara, stopping in the Burren for a short walk at the foot of Mullagh Mor. It was crisp, windy and sunny.

Connemara is the western region of County Galway, a couple of hours north of where we live in West Clare. Connemara means "by the sea" in Irish, and it's a starkly beautiful landscape of craggy bare mountains and icy lakes.

We stayed in a hostel in Letterfrack, and this small mountain, Diamond Hill, was right behind the hostel. The day we arrived Bill and I climbed to the top.

The view from Diamond Hill. It was a pretty easy climb, with an official marked trail and a boardwalk over the boggy bits. When we got back to the hostel, we told Dad that he could probably climb it, and the next morning he hoofed it to the top. Not bad for a 75 year-old geezer!

A few days later Bill and I climbed the hill at the right side of the photo above, at the mouth of the inlet.

Near the hostel, we found a tragically sad cemetery for the little boys who died as a result of abuse at the Letterfrack industrial school. (You may have heard about Letterfrack in the news recently as a report detailing the abuses was just released.) Fortunately the path to the cemetery was lovely, with bluebells and wild garlic blooming together in profusion.

Kylemore Abbey, on the shores of Lake Kylemore, was originally built as a faux castle by a rich Englishman. His young wife died in childbirth, he suffered from depression and lost his fortune and the place fell into disrepair. Eventually it was sold to a group of Belgian nuns escaping WW1 and it's now an exclusive boarding school. Near the abbey there's a huge walled garden planted with vegetables, fruit trees and flowers.

One day we drove a little further north into County Mayo. Bill and I played on the beach near Louisberg. The sun was brilliant and the sea electric blue.

Back near the hostel, looking up the valley with Diamond Hill on the right.

Going up and at the top of the second hill we climbed a few days later. A mountain range called the Twelve Bens is in the background.

We drove back a different way, hugging the south coast of Connemara. We stopped at Dog Bay where the water was Carribean blue.

Rick Manning's visit - pubs and crack

Rick Manning, the driving force behind the Cayuga Waterfront Trail in Ithaca, plays some mean bluegrass and Irish trad on the fiddle, and he finally made it here to play some music! There was a trad festival happening in Ennis and Rick got to play at a bunch of sessions as well as at a party. The crack was mighty!
We played a bit at our cottage, and Rick and I played a few tunes that we both know at the pub one night.

And of course we took Rick to the Burren. (Warning: if you come to visit us we will take you to the Burren!) It was a sunny, clear day so we climbed to the top of Mullagh Mor for some nice views.

Our gardens

With 18 hours of daylight our flower and veg gardens are rockin! We're eating lots out of the garden and also selling mixed salad, spinach, lettuce, broccoli, chard, and kale at the farmer's market. Soon we'll have peas, broad beans and strawberries, and the tomatoes are fruiting in the polytunnel.

Purple clematis with magenta rock rose blooming at its feet.

Blue Himalayan Poppy
Summer is good in Ireland, and this one is predicted to be warmer and drier than normal due to the return of El Nino in the US. I'm glad to be here!

April 2009

noreply@blogger.com (Chrys and Bill) — Sun, 03 May 2009 20:50:00 +0000

April's theme was "should I stay or should I go?", testing my resolve to stay in County Clare. It all started with an enticing job opportunity with my former employer, Cornell Cooperative Extension in Ithaca, running a 6 month community food education program. I did very similar work in Tioga County, NY a few years ago, and I very seriously considered returning to Ithaca (while Bill stayed in Clare) to run the program from May through October.

While I was considering the Ithaca job, I spotted another interesting job opening in County Leitrim, about 3 hours north of Clare. The Organic Centre, a food gardening educational center, was advertising for an assistant head gardener. I sent my resume via email on the last day they were accepting applications, and to my surprise I was called for an interview a few days later. We drove north for the interview and while we were there we spent a few days hiking in the spectacular flat-topped mountains nearby.

The Organic Centre

Because I applied for the Organic Centre position on the last day it was open, I never got an information packet and full job description before the interview. Due to the timing of the job opening (spring, the busiest time of year) and the fact that they were looking for an assistant to the head gardener, I thought that it might be a seasonal position. If so, I would have considered moving to Leitrim for the summer while Bill stayed in Clare. But it turned out they were looking for someone to make a year-round, long-term commitment, and after seeing the remoteness of the area and learning that it was even colder and wetter than Clare, we decided we had no interest in re-locating yet again.

Due to the high rainfall and cool temps, most of the gardens at the Organic Centre are in polytunnels.

A landscaped herb garden in one of the polytunnels

Living willow sculptures

Outdoor demonstration gardens

Eagle Rock
After the interview we squeezed in a late afternoon hike at Eagle Rock. The flat-topped mountains in the western corner of Leitrim and neighboring County Sligo are unique in Ireland, and are caused by a layer of extremely hard rock that resists erosion.

The trail headed for this gap where a section of the cliff pulled away from the mountain. Aside from the moss, grey skies and rain, these rock formations look like they could be in the American southwest.

Climbing up the gap

Looking across the valley to another mesa-like mountain. The white stuff is snow.

Once through the gap, which way to go down? This way looked a bit dodgy.....

....so we decided to walk (slide!) down this way instead.

We had to sidestep down the steep, slippery slope. Fortunately the sheep had made little hoof-sized terraces in the hillside that we could use as steps.

Looking back at Eagle Rock (which I kept calling "Dead Man's Gulch" in my head), after our slippery descent.

Benbulben

I'm cheating here and putting up someone else's photo of Benbulben so you can see the unusual shape of the mountain. It's over 1700 feet high.

This is how it looked to us before we started our hike the next morning. We were hoping the mist and fog cleared before we climbed to the top.

We crossed through fields of sheep at the bottom, and saw this mama sheep and her newborn lamb - still damp and barely able to stand.

The mists cleared as we climbed and we had nice views of Glencar Lake and the valley below.

We spidered our way up the steep hill. If it had been snowy like the day before we never would have been able to do this. One mis-step and we would have log rolled for about a mile, with no trees to stop us, all the way down to the valley below.

The cliffs at the top are sheer, but we worked our way up through this rocky cleft passed The Pinnacles (which I kept calling "The Devil's Pinnacles" in my head).

Almost at the top now!

From the lofty plateau, fabulous views of the valley far below......

.....and the sea.

I think this is where the last hikers ended up.

Then this heavy rainstorm swept in from the sea, obscuring all views and making for a very soggy descent down the King's Valley, a broader and less steep way down the way we had come up.

Back in Clare
After serious deliberation I came this close < > to going back to Ithaca for the food gardening position. On the one hand, steady income doing something I love in a place I love. On the other hand, leaving the person I love the most and another place that I love. I went back and forth, I hemmed and hawed, I sat on the fence and hopped off again. In the end, Clare won. I don't want to be apart from Bill for so long, and it's such a great time of year to be here. I started tons of flower seeds this spring and our veg garden is rocking. We're selling out of produce and nori rolls at the farmer's market each week and we have a couple of big landscaping projects that will keep us busy for a while. And the weather service is predicting a warmer, drier summer this year - fingers crossed for that.

So in the end I chose the two birds in a bush over one in the hand.

Spring Flowers
This is a hand-carved stone pig trough. Farmers used to sit by the fire and carve these in the winter. It was empty when we moved to the cottage so I planted some rock garden plants in it last spring.

Blue Himalayan Poppy - I love true-blue flowers and I had always wanted one of these plants!

Here's how quickly plants grow here - I planted this Clematis montana a year ago when it was about 2 feet tall. It climbed up the old ladder and spread out 6 feet in either direction, and is covered with hundreds of pale pink blooms this spring!

March 2009

noreply@blogger.com (Chrys and Bill) — Tue, 07 Apr 2009 15:30:00 +0000

March = Gardening
I'm afraid we were pretty boring last month and just got totally stuck into the gardening, so no exciting travel tales or scenic landscape photos in this month's blog. Just photos of plants and flowers, so if you don't like plants you better just go away now.

I've posted a couple of longer essays about the experience of moving to Ireland - you can find them listed in the sidebar below the photos. One of the essays is the story of how we came to move to County Clare despite being very settled and content in Ithaca NY. The other is about the trials and tribulations of trying to get an Irish driving license.

I always wanted a real cottage garden.

We have been starting thousands of veg and flower seedlings in the new polytunnel, and are digging new garden beds as fast as we can.

Awesome Shrubbery
I was never a big fan of shrubbery back in America. It seemed to me that only a select few shrubs hardy to upstate NY offer a serious "wow!" factor. But I'm a convert to shrubbery now - there are so many amazing shrubs in Irish gardens, many of them imported exotics from Asia, Australia and New Zealand, that truly pack a floriferous punch.

(I can't write "shrubbery" without thinking of Monty Python and the Holy Grail. If you're a fan you know what I'm talking about. Nee!)

I'm especially fond of the winter and early spring flowering shrubs, when nothing is in bloom except the spring bulbs. The bees like them, too.

Like this Darwin's Barberry (Berberis darwinii). When you first see the small orange blossoms covering the evergreen shrub they look just like fall berries.

This is Flowering Currant (Ribes) - I like the way the homeowners painted the wall to match the blossoms.

Alternative Energy in Ireland
The Irish gov't has been offering rebates and tax incentives for home solar and wind power, and our farmer friends Chris and Hilary got in on it. They live on a high, open hill, perfect for windpower, and also have a few solar panels and a generator for backup.

Chris and Hilary need a lot of water for their three polytunnels and glasshouse, so they put in a super water collection system on all of their roofs when they realized the water pump was the biggest electrical draw. As a result they were able to get by with quite a small power system. (There's a very large water tank just out of sight on the right side of the shed, and the blue barrels are linked together for overflow capacity.)

Ever resourceful, Chris and Hilary built this large glasshouse completely out of salvaged windows. Hilary said she measured each window then figured out the layout of each greenhouse wall using graph paper and a lot of pencil eraser!

Landscape Gardening
A woman hired us to do a bunch of work while her husband was away. He's getting older and wants to do things himself, but never seems to get to them. (I'm not talking about little odd jobs - she showed us a garage that she turned into a sitting room while he was away for two weeks!)

We put in a brick path on a slippery slope.......

.....and we turned two other hard-to-mow grass slopes into gardens planted with groundcover shrubs.

Here is a photo series of a big patio job that we did over the winter. The area had been a children's play area next to the house, but now that the child is 10 the family no longer needs the swingset and sandbox area and decided a patio would be a nice addition to their garden.

First we excavated and moved several tons of gravel as a base.

Then Bill laid the paving stones.

I was the 'mudhog' for this job, keeping Bill constantly supplied with fresh mortar.

We built three large raised planters with reclaimed bricks.

Filling the planters with soil.

This spring we planted shrubs and perennials in the brick planters.

I won't even go into state of the Irish economy in this blog. If you've been watching the news you know Ireland went from rags to riches during the Celtic Tiger years, and is now back to rags. Home food gardening, predictably, is on the increase, and I have a couple of job possibilities that are related to educating people about veg gardening, similar to the work I was doing with Cooperative Extension in Tioga County 5 years ago. Stay tuned!!

How we ended up moving to Ireland

noreply@blogger.com (Chrys and Bill) — Tue, 07 Apr 2009 15:08:00 +0000

This is the story of our move from Ithaca NY, a place I love very much (and for which I still pine on the harder days), to a rustic thatched cottage in the hills of County Clare, Ireland. I feel like I'm married to America and having a fling with Ireland.

Bill and I, both in our mid-40's, thought we had finally settled down. We were living in a beautiful passive solar house near Ithaca that we built ourselves, surrounded by a huge vegetable garden, fruit trees, and gorgeous flower gardens. We had worked hard for years, building and gardening, to create our own little paradise. We were both fortunate to have steady, fulfilling work that paid the bills and a great social life in beautiful Ithaca, a progressive university town with a rich offering of artistic and academic culture.

We left a lovely, handbuilt home...

with an attached greenhouse...

and beautiful gardens...

...in the hills of upstate New York.

We left behind our fun and crazy friends....

...and family

2004: A ten-day holiday in County Clare
Then in 2004 everything changed. I found out I was eligible for Irish citizenship by descent, an unusually liberal policy that means anyone with at least one grandparent born in Ireland can apply for citizenship. I found this out around the same time that we were feeling utterly disgusted with the way the Bush administration had used 9/11 as an excuse to invade Iraq, and apprehensive about the upcoming election, in which Bush had a good chance of getting re-elected. With Irish citizenship, it might be possible to get away from American policies for a while and experience life in another country. This was an intriguing idea, but still a remote fantasy since neither of us had ever been to Ireland and didn't have a clue as to what it was really like. I held contradicting images in my mind of green, green hills and IRA bombers.

We came to Ireland for the first time for a 10 day vacation in spring of 2004, with our 18 year old daughter. Monica was just about to finish high school, so the trip was a long-promised graduation gift to her as well as a chance to to check out Ireland as a possible place to live. We had a fantastic time - to say we loved our time in County Clare would be an understatement. What I felt more than anything was a sense of recognition and familiarity, as if I were traveling through a landscape I had visited many times in my dreams. I saw so many facets of my personality reflected in the people we met - the easy way I talk to strangers, my love for music, an awe for the wild power of nature. It was as if the last few pieces of my jigsaw puzzle had always been missing and now they had finally fallen into place. I know it sounds like the usual cheesy romantic goop that is spouted by everyone who comes to Ireland in search of their roots, but in my case the powerful sense of identification was strong enough that just seeing Ireland on one holiday wasn't enough. It was as if I was under a spell, and after our trip I could think of nothing else but returning to Ireland to experience more of this feeling.

Images from our first trip to Ireland. We were hooked.

2005: 10 months WWOOFING in the west of Ireland
However, I wasn't quite ready to chuck everything and move to Ireland just yet. It would have been easier when we were still in our early 20's and not so settled down. I recognized that the symptoms of infatuation might be temporary, so we looked into ways to travel around Ireland cheaply for a good long time, and still keep our house and jobs in the United States. Finally we found the answer through WWOOF, World-Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms. This organization facilitates an exchange program between organic farmers who need help and people who want to learn about farming while traveling around. The volunteers, called “wwoofers”, work for a pre-arranged number of hours per week on the farms in exchange for meals and a place to stay. By wwoofing in Ireland, we were able to travel cheaply, see a fair bit of the country, and meet others with like-minded interests in organic farming and gardening.

We made all the necessary arrangements to leave our old lives behind for a year and started wwoofing in the west of Ireland in January 2005. We spent 10 months wwoofing in Counties Cork, Kerry, Clare, Limerick, Clare and Galway, staying with 12 different families overall. Many of our wwoof hosts were not professional farmers, rather they were small-holders with large vegetable gardens and some animals, trying to be more self-sufficient.

Wwoofing was challenging in the beginning. Missing our home, friends and pets, combined with a few challenging farm situations almost had me on the plane back to America before the first few months had passed. I kept a journal throughout the year, and set up a blog that was read by hundreds of Americans, friends, families and co-workers, back home.

After a rough experience with our second wwoof hosts we thought about giving up but decided to give wwoofing one more try before returning to the United States in defeat. Fortunately our next hosts were two of the sweetest people in the world. I would have adopted them as my grandparents and stayed forever but sadly we had to move on when our two weeks were up. After that point our wwoofing experiences were mostly positive, but more importantly I found I had developed a much better tolerance to the few hosts that were a bit prickly to live with. I no longer missed our home in Ithaca so much, and I found that I really enjoyed packing up and moving along every two weeks with no clue about what was in store for us at the next farm. At each home we spent lots of our free time cycling, walking, and exploring the surrounding area, so that by the end of 10 months we had probably seen more of western Ireland's hidden nooks and crannies than most Irish.

We stayed in all manner of accommodation.

And we did all kinds of work.

Once we got into County Clare and started wwoofing around Ennis we hit a lucky streak. Some call it “trail magic”, those serendipitous situations that happen when you throw your fate to the winds. It was summertime, holiday time, and we met a group of people who were looking for trustworthy house and pet minders while they were away. We were essentially homeless, very flexible, and delighted to stay for a week or two in one beautiful home after another – an architect's bright, spacious house surrounded by gorgeous, exotic gardens; a seaside cottage overlooking the Aran Islands; a lovely house in the town center of Ennis, with an easy walk to the pubs for traditional music. Once we had use of a homeowner lovely Audi, a novelty for us since we had been getting around Ireland strictly by bike and bus. As I drove into town (on the wrong side of the road), the Talking Heads song, “Letting the Days Go By” played in my head:

And you may find yourself living in a beautiful house,
And you may find yourself behind the wheel of a large automobile.
And you may ask yourself, “Well, how did I get here?”

We cycled everywhere.....

...climbed a lot of mountains....

visited oodles of castles.....

and ogled the sexy summer wildflowers.

As I settled into the rhythms of traveling and wwoofing I experienced more freedom than I had at any other time in my life. This was like being a teenager, but without the angst – we were only working part-time at something we both love, we had no bills to pay, no parental responsibilities, no car repairs, no job hassles. We did have wwoof hosts that, like parents, could sometimes be nice and other times be mean and repressive. But at least we could leave home and get a new set of “parents” every couple of weeks. I had become so unattached to our old routines that I felt reluctant to return to our settled lives in America. I fantasized about fixing up a camper van and driving around the rest of Europe and beyond, getting by as wwoofers and migrant farm laborers. But reality set in when we ran out of money, so we returned to our house and jobs in the United States before going too deeply into debt.

There is a common insect that lives in the still waters of ponds and swamps in America. The water strider glides around on the surface tension of the water, like an ice skater. Down in the southern states they call them “Jesus bugs” because they appear to be walking on the water. The water striders glide around eating tiny insects that either land on the water or come up to the surface from below, so they literally have the best of both worlds, water and air.

Being a water strider is what wwoofing felt like after a while. I could see down into the water where people were living their settled lives – content and comfortably trapped by jobs, mortgages, and raising children. With our grown daughter living in California, parents who were aging but still healthy, and no debt (other than our mortgage), we had an open window in our lives and we seized the opportunity to dive through it. We temporarily broke free of the chains that had tied us for so long, and were fortunate to spend almost a year skating above the surface of normal life.

2006-2007:Back in America
We returned to America in the late fall of 2005, determined to save enough money to return to Ireland and try living a “real life” rather than just wwoofing. During the two years we were living in America we made three changes to our lives, inspired by our journey,. First, I finally learned to play an instrument. When we were wwoofing I was asked again and again if I played. In fact, I was asked many more times what instrument I played than what I did for a living, which is usually one of the first questions people ask in America. Musical talent is so common in Ireland that admitting that you can't play an instrument is like confessing you don't know how to read. I was not going to return to Ireland until I could play something, so I set about learning to play the banjo, choosing to learn the Apalachian old-timey style rather than Irish traditional music.

Second, we started our own “box scheme” for selling vegetables. This scheme was inspired by one of the Irish farms we wwoofed on that operated a vegetable delivery service. We had already been growing lots of veg for our own use, so we just ramped up the amount we normally planted and made customized deliveries to friends and co-workers. It was a good experience and we plan to start the same kind of veg delivery service here in Ireland when we develop more garden space.

Lastly, since the veg delivery business meant we had a lot more garden to manage plus full-time jobs on the side, we opened our home to wwoofers. It was an interesting experience to have the shoe on the other foot and host people who came with little or no farming skills. As former wwoofers, we understood what it was like to live in a stranger's home, and so did everything we could to provide a comfortable home for our wwoofers while establishing a work arrangement that was flexible and fair to everybody.

Lindsay and Will, our wwoofers from London

When we felt financially and emotionally ready to make a more permanent move to Ireland,there was no doubt about where we wanted to settle. We had made our best connections and had the best traveler's luck in Ennis, County Clare, and Clare had everything we were looking for: the rugged Atlantic coastline; the botanical wonders and weird moonscapes of the Burren; the wooded hills and lakes of east Clare, so reminiscent of the landforms of our Fingerlakes region in upstate New York; and the perfect size of the market town, Ennis – large enough to have a performing arts center and a lively, diverse culture, but small enough to have beauty and nature close at hand and a sense of community.

2008-Present:Living in County Clare
After two years of saving money and making plans, we moved to County Clare in February 2008. When we were wwoofing it seemed like life would be much easier in Ireland once I got citizenship, so we could have our own house, paying jobs, and our pets from America living with us. Of course reality is always more challenging and interesting than fantasy, and our first year in Ballynacally has been filled with the best and worst of times. We came here without jobs or a house lined up, trusting that our Ennis luck and connections would carry us through once again. We managed to find an unique thatched cottage for rent and enough gardening and landscaping work to barely keep our heads above water this year. And believe me, since 2008 was the wettest summer on record it wasn't always easy to keep one's head above water.

We struggled through the bureaucracy and red tape of bringing our two dogs over from Ireland. The younger dog had just gone blind from a rare hormonal disease and the older one was diagnosed with a fatal liver tumor. When they finally joined us in Ireland we had to adjust to life with a blind dog who was learning her way around a new home, and an older dog in failing health.

We blundered through the hoops involved in opening a bank account (harder than we thought) finding paying work, learning to drive on the left and getting an Irish driving license (much harder than we thought - one year after moving here I still don't have one!).

We made beautiful vegetable and flower gardens, for ourselves and for others.

And always the biggest challenge of moving anywhere new, working at making friends and establishing a sense of connection with people. Without children in school or a network of co-workers, we had to make a real effort to meet new friends. We were lucky to already know some of the organic farmers and gardeners, and we found that music is a great common denominator for the type of people that we like to hang out with.

After almost a year of living in Ireland I am finally starting to feel settled in. We have a small number of people we can call friends now, both Irish and ex-pats. Many of these ex-pats also moved here because they felt enchanted by Ireland's natural beauty and relaxed pace of life. The Irish, having grown up with a constant eyeful of the gorgeous views, seem to think we are all barking mad for moving to this wet and chilly little island. Yet for all the griping about the weather, look who's still here? With EU membership, the Irish can live and work any number of European countries, including many that are much warmer and drier than Ireland. Yet the ones who stayed, and whose ancestors stayed through all the hard times, must sense, deep down, that Ireland is a sacred place with powerful energy.

Over the last year I've given a lot of thought to what it means to be a voluntary immigrant – not one who was forced to emigrate to find work or flee from a war-torn or impoverished country, but those of us who chose to move elsewhere for less concrete reasons. A desire for adventure, to learn a new language, or just to reap the richness of experience that comes with facing new challenges each day. I've thought about how much easier it is for us modern-day immigrants – we now have instantaneous communication with our loved ones back home via emails, blogs and global calling cards, compared to the months-long passage of letters written emigrants like my grandparents. EU immigrants like the Polish and Czechs now working in Ireland can now on Ryanair flights for less than 50 euros to visit their friends and families back home. (I'm fervently hoping that Micheal O'Leary follows through on his promise to start low-cost transatlantic flights starting in 2010. Then my periodic bouts of intense homesickness could be alleviated by short breaks to Ithaca, and more of our friends and family could afford to visit us as well.)

Why is it that some humans are so content to live out their entire lives where they were born and raised, and others are only happy when they are on the move? Is there some kind of a genetic predisposition, a traveler's gene? Am I the product of a footloose father and a mother who says coming home is one of the best part about traveling? I've always had an inner struggle between the half of me that wants to dig in my roots and the other half that wants to keep experiencing new living situations. This lyric from the Grateful Dead song “Truckin'” sums it up for me:

Get tired of hanging around, you gotta travel,
Get tired of traveling, you want to settle down....

In nature, seeds are dispersed in a variety of ways to ensure the successful reproduction of the species. Some seeds fall to the ground around the parent plant, where the soil and conditions have already proven themselves reliable for that type of plant. But competition from the parent plant and sibling seedlings could also spell disaster for the fallen seeds. Other seeds are sent far and wide, either on the wind, within fruits and nuts consumed by animals, or as hitchhikers on animal fur and feathers. These seeds take the chance that they'll end up in fertile soil elsewhere, and enough light and water to germinate and thrive. Sometimes a seed lands in a place that is similar to the environment where the parent plant grew,, but different enough that the new plant gradually evolves and adapts to the new environment, the same and yet also subtly changed. Change, mutation and evolution are essential for long term success of any species.

And how have I changed, mutated, evolved through this process? Wwoofing was fantastic for showing me how to take life one day at a time and not try to plan the future so much. It was comical how often our best laid plans fell through but were always replaced by something as good or better. I had always been a planner and organizer, but wwoofing taught me the value of just letting go with whatever happens. I've also learned to get by with a lot less possessions. For almost a year we lived out of our backpacks, and when we returned to America I was shocked at how much stuff we still had in our house and promptly got rid of about half of it.

We moved back to Ireland with just a few suitcases of essentials (gardening tools, cookware, musical instruments, art supplies, bicycles) and at that time we thought we would have more of our possessions shipped to Ireland. Our rented house came furnished, and after we bought what we needed at charity shops and discount stores realize we can live without most of of that stuff. We are able to live quite frugally, despite Ireland's reputation as an expensive country, and instead use our wealth of time to travel as much as we can around this beautiful island and to the rest of Europe.

Life is more interesting on the edge!

I believe our story of emigrating to Ireland is fairly unique. We come from a country that people generally move to, not from, and most Americans will never have the opportunity to live overseas. Until I experienced it myself, it was very difficult to truly understand what it is like to be an immigrant. To really love two different places is to always feel torn in two to some degree, but this experience is also teaching me the art of being happy, where ever I am.

The 2nd hardest thing about moving to Ireland.......

noreply@blogger.com (Chrys and Bill) — Mon, 06 Apr 2009 11:31:00 +0000

.....has been getting a driver's license. We have lived here for 13 months, and despite massive efforts at getting a license (I've taken three driving tests and spent 250 euros so far) I am still driving around with the stupid red "L" stickers (for "Learner" but now it feels more like "Loser")on the front and back windows of the car.

Here's the entire, embarrassing story:
February 2008
We arrive in Ennis and buy a second-hand car within the first few weeks. When negotiating for our VW Polo we ask the car dealer about how much he thinks insurance will be and he says he pays 400 euros a year. We buy the car and take the receipt into town to buy insurance. The first place we go to gives us a quote of over 2,000/year. We freak out and say we'll try somewhere else. The second place says 2,500/year. The third place won't even consider insuring us because we are Americans.

I should mention here that Bill and I have both been driving for decades, and except for some old speeding tickets of mine from back when I was a leadfoot, and a wipeout on black ice, we both have good driving records.

The US does not have a reciprocal agreement with Ireland regarding driving. Residents of some other countries, including most of the EU and Japan, can just come here and drive on their own licenses forever, while we are only supposed to use the US license for one year. As far as the Irish insurance companies are concerned we are just like 17 year old kids driving for the first time.

We go back to the first place which gave us the quote of 2,000 a year and suck it up. The agent says that the sooner we can get an Irish license the better, because the premium will immediately drop. We foolishly assume this can be accomplished in a few months.
Our little VW Polo. The first year of insurance cost almost as much as the car!

March 2008
We prepare to take the Driving Theory Test. Similar to the written test for a NY license but much more thorough. Plus, some of the rules of the road are different, and of course everything is in metric so we have to memorize speed limits and stopping distances in kilometers/hour and meters per second. There are a number of questions regarding farm machinery since the license covers tractor drivers, and you also have to show knowledge of basic car maintenance. The test is 60 questions and you can only get 5 or fewer wrong to pass.

We find a teen center that has simulated theory tests on computers where we can go to practice, even though we are not teens. (I guess as far as the insurance companies are concerned we are, and that's good enough for the folks at the teen center.) By taking the simulated tests over and over again, we eventually see all of the possible questions and just memorize as many answers as we can (fortunately it's multiple choice).
Our study guide for the theory test

April 2008
Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that the waiting times for each step in getting the holy license are s-l-o-w. You call to schedule, then weeks go by until you finally get a letter with your test date, many more weeks hence.

So finally our theory test dates come up in April. We go to the address in the confirmation letter - there's no DMV so it's at a local hotel. Turns out the test is administered in a small bus waiting out in the parking lot. The bus drives around to different towns giving the theory test, and it's equipped with a waiting room, two computers on which to take the test, and a small area where the employee gives you your results and gives you feedback on what you got wrong.

Success! All the cramming at the teen center pays off! I just squeak by, getting the maximum number wrong (5), while Bill gets 4 wrong.
Cost: 36 euros each

Next came some completely unexpected costs. We passed the theory test, but when reading the fine print on our passing certificates we see that we still have to send in application form (Cost: 15 euros each), results of an eye exam, given by a licensed opthalmologist (Cost: 30 euros each), and two passport photos (Cost: 10 euros each).

May 2008
We try to schedule our driving tests and find out that new legislation, enacted just a few months before, says that new drivers must wait at least 6 months after getting their first provisional license (learner's permit) before scheduling a driving test. Nothing to do but wait until 6 months have passed and practice driving on the left side of roads (some of which are too narrow to really have a left side or right side anyway, so everyone more or less drives down the center anyway until forced up against the stone walls by oncoming cars).

September 2008
Everyone we know has been telling us their horror stories about failing the driving test. There is a one-third failure rate across the country, and there are a lot of Irish who've just given up and are still driving on provisional licenses that have expired. (The gov't says it's cracking down on these drivers now, but from what we've seen there is very little law enforcement out on the roads.)

One of the common reasons for failure is the part of the test that involves backing around a corner in a busy residential area, something you would never, ever do in real life when there are so many driveways where you can turn around more safely. Also, if the car touches the curb during this or any other part of the test it's an automatic failure.

You also have to answer some oral questions at the beginning of the test about speed limits and stopping distances, again involving metric measurement. The tester also points to a chart of road signs and asks you to give the meanings. Roadsigns are completely graphic here, due to some EU regs about signage that can be understood without knowing the language. Some of these signs are pretty hard to figure out, and of course these are the ones they like to show you for the oral part of the exam.

One of the signs I have been asked to identify at all three driving tests, and I am not making this up, is a completely white, blank circle. I have never actually seen one of these signs in real life (it would probably lend itself to immediate vandalism, that blank circle just begging for graffiti) but according to our study guide it means "Pedestrianized Street", like the Ithaca Commons. I don't think a blank circle is the best way to get this message across. Wouldn't it be more effective if the sign had a picture of a car driving down a pedestrianized street with little stick figures running away and flying through the air?
They asked me to identify this sign every time I took the test

The other one they like to ask shows a windsock blowing in the wind. The first time I answered "An airport nearby? Watch out for low aircraft?" but it turns out to be a warning for crosswinds. (I can see how wind would be a hard concept to get across graphically.)

Everyone says to take a driving lesson before we take the test, so we each sign up for a driving lesson. To get the most out of it, Bill tags along in the back seat for my lesson and I go along for his, so we can hear as much advice as possible. Cost: 40 euros each.

The instructor is great. She gives us little tips like: "Back into the parking space when you first arrive for the test so that you are pulling out forward at the beginning, when you're likely to be nervous." She also runs us through the second part of the test, after the oral part, which involves opening the hood and answering questions about car maintenance, like how to check and fill the oil, add water to the radiators, etc.

Before we start the driving lesson she shows us what the test sheet looks like - it looks like an SAT exam, with three different categories of faults for each heading (Observation, Signalling, Speed, Reversing, etc): Grade 1 (minor faults), Grade 2 (more serious), and the dreaded Grade 3 (very hazardous, the test is immediately over). You can get an unlimited number of Grade 1 faults, and up to nine Grade 2 faults overall. However, you can also fail if you get four Grade 2 faults under any one category.

The instructor then takes us on the actual test course in the town of Ennis and through the outlying suburbs, giving us verbal feedback and also written comments on how we can each improve. We've both gotten lazy over the years about using our mirrors, and the testers are stringent about "mirror-signal-mirror-manouvre". If you were to forget looking in your mirror at four required times during the 40 minute driving test, that would be considered four Grade 2 faults in the observation category, meaning failure. This is one reason it's so hard to pass the test here - you can fail for making multiple but relatively minor mistakes.

The other things on the test are hand signals (different ones depending on whether you're signalling to someone in front of you or behind you), a hillstart using the handbrake, and a three point turn.

The main comment the instructor has for me is to slow down. She says I am much too zippy and need to stay in third gear in the town and second gear around the roundabouts, of which there are many. "Where ye a rally driver in America?" she asks repeatedly.

Over the next few weeks before our test dates, we both practice using our mirrors obsessively and I try to slow down a bit.

October 2008
Bill's test is scheduled first. Bill is one of the most conservative drivers I know. He never tailgates, speeds and always brakes gently and early. I used to tease him that he drives like a grandma, so I have every confidence that he'll pass. Yet when he returns to the test center waiting room he gives me the thumbs down. When we are alone in the car I can see that he is angry, and he shows me his test result: the instructor gave him four Grade 2 faults in the category of Maintaining Correct Speed. She felt he was driving too slowly and in too low a gear (3rd gear in town and a bit less than the posted speed limit, as instructed by our driving teacher.)

The tester gave him feedback after showing him the results and said he should have been in 4th gear and exactly at the speed limit of 30 mph. However, we were told that if you go over the speed limit it's considered a Grade 3 fault and automatic failure. Try this next time you're driving: stay at exactly 30 miles per hour while driving through a busy town. And remember to look in your mirrors every 10 seconds while doing it.

My test is a week later. OK, I tell myself. Don't drive too fast. And don't drive too slow. Mirror-signal, mirror-signal, mirror-mirror-mirror. Fortunately Bill clued me in on which road signs he was asked about for the oral part of his test, so the tester looks surprised when I confidently sing out "Pedestrianized Street!" when he points to the blank white circle. I also sail through the part where we look under the hood and I identify engine parts.

We get in the car. The tester holds a handheld computer in his hand. Everytime he marks you wrong on something you can hear an audible click. It's totally nervewracking because every time I hear it I'm trying to figure out what I just did wrong, instead of focusing on what I'm doing. Click. Oh shit. Click. Oh shit.

I think I'm doing alright, and finally we come to the anxiety-producing Reverse Around the Corner. It's in a busy housing estate with cars going by every minute or so. Bill and I had gone to this exact corner in evenings (no-one's allowed to practice on the route during testing hours) to perfect this manouvre.Like I said, it's automatic failure if you hit the curb, but you also have to end up within one foot of the curb at the end. And check mirrors and through the back window constantly.

I am halfway through the reverse, right at the corner with the front end of the car sticking into the main road into the housing estate, when another car comes along the road. I make eye contact with the other driver, and since my car is sticking into the road and blocking his way I then continue the reverse. After I complete the reverse turn I am pleased to see that I am within the required distance from the curb. So why did I just hear a click from the tester's hand held thingie?

We continue on with the rest of the test and finally return to the test center. The guy disappears into a little room to attach his hand-held device to their computer to print out my test results. I'm sitting there feeling pretty confident when he returns to the waiting room and tells me, "I'm afraid it's not very good news." (This must what they're taught to say in the Break It To Them Gently part of their training.) He then shows me my results: I have a fatal Grade 3 fault in the Reversing category, which means automatic failure.
My 1st driving test results: a fatal grade 3 fault in reversing

The tester explains that when I saw the other vehicle, I should have stopped immediately and not proceeded on until his car was no longer in the vicinity. Despite the fact that I was blocking his way. It would have been a stand-off, until eventually the other guy would either have to drive on the sidewalk or turn around and leave.

Why didn't he tell me right away when it happened? I'm guessing they don't want to be stuck in a car with an upset person who's just failed the test. And who might, deliberately or not, drive very poorly back to the center.

The tester also gives me feedback that I was driving too fast. I was trying to keep it right around 30 mph, the speed limit in town, and going in third gear around the roundabouts, based on the feedback from Bill's first failed test. I had a different tester, so this goes to show you how subjective the whole process is. One tester wants you to drive right at the speed limit, and another doesn't feel comfortable with that.
Cost: 38 euros each

We immediately schedule new driving tests for November.

Just to add insult to injury, about 3 weeks after we failed our tests we each received a lovely red certificate of failure, suitable for framing.

November 2008
Bill's test comes up first again. This time he passes with flying colors, even though he was so nervous that he felt he drove worse than the first time around. He has hardly any faults marked on his sheet.

A week later it's my turn. I get the same tester that Bill had the first time, the one that said he was too slow. So I try to keep my speed up, but it's mid-day on a Friday in Ennis, a very busy shopping day with lots of car doors opening and pedestrians crossing the road. She gives me four Grade 2 faults for driving too slowly (between 25 and 30 mph) and in third gear instead of fourth. My report looks almost identical to Bill's first failed test with the same tester. I mentioned earlier that I'm a bit of a leadfoot, so it's completely ludicrous that she fails me for driving slowly and cautiously. Cost: 38 euros each
My 2nd driving test results: too many grade 2 faults, in particular for driving at a low speed (25 mph in a 30 mph zone) and using 3rd gear instead of 4th!

I reschedule another test for January. The Road Safety Authority kindly sends me another lovely certificate.

January 2009
My test is scheduled for 9 am, and I'm so nervous this time that I barely sleep the night before. I'm really confused at this point about how fast or slow I should be driving for the test. This time my test is at the other test center in Ennis, since I've already been failed by both testers at the other place. They have a policy not to give you the same tester who's failed you already, but to be honest I would have preferred that because at least then I would know what they're looking for.

We start the test. I am really nervous and sleep-deprived. I don't know these roads at all and wonder if I should have taken another lesson on this test course. Five minutes into it the tester suddenly says, "Stop the car! Pull over!" There's nowhere safe to do so and I drive on looking for a safe place to pull over, while asking what's wrong. The tester is clearly agitated."My seat is off the rails! My seat's not attached to the car!"

I pull into a driveway and he jumps out of the car. He opens the back door and is fishing around for the seat belt, which is trapped behind the seat because we usually have the seats folded down to make way for landscaping tools. Meanwhile, I'm out of the car and on my hands and knees next to the passenger seat in total disbelief. "What? How? No way - we've had this car for a year and never had a problem with the seat before! I share this car with my husband and we adjust this seat all the time! I bet I can fix it in a jiffy - oh look, here's where the bolt fell out! If I fix it now can we continue the test? It takes a while to schedule another one and I really want to pass it today."

I remember back to the beginning of the test, when the tester got into the passenger seat and roughly pushed the seat back as far as it would go. They do this so they can observe you more easily, and I have a feeling he pushed the seat right off the rails then.

"The test is over! Take me back to the test center now! Where is the seat belt? This car is required to have seat belts - please take me back now!" I locate the seat belt for him and we head back to the test center. I'm completely rattled, as is he, and when he shouts out "Turn left here!" as I speed past the road to the center, I have to admit that I took it kind of fast, so forget about that man ever setting foot into my car again.

Bill looks stunned when I return to the test center after just 10 minutes. I am on the verge of tears and the tester kisses the carpet with relief when we got inside, so Bill can tell something went very wrong. The tester filled out a form called Denial of Test which entitle me to a free re-test. Cost: 38 euros

Sure enough, we find a little bolt under the seat that is broken in two. It only takes a few minutes to fix the seat.

February 2009
Our initial car insurance policy is up for renewal, so I go to the insurance office with Bill's full driving licence. I get a new quote: 750/year, or a bit more than a third of what we were paying in '08. Woohoo!!

"How much will more will it go down when I get my license?" I ask the insurance agent, without telling him I've already failed twice and been "denied" once. He says it won't really go down much more. Hmmm...is there any point to me taking the test again? Then I remember that I am only supposed to drive on the US license for a year, so I really have to get an Irish license ASAP.

I start to schedule another driving test, then realize that our NCT is going to expire before I can get another shot at the driving test. (NCT = National Car Test. Yes, even the car has to take a test here.) The NCT is similar to inspection but more like California's than New York. They are very strict about emmissions and it's usually the failure for most older vehicles.As of this writing in early April, we have put some money into car repairs but it still failed, so back to the mechanic it goes. When the car finally passes it's test, I can finally schedule another driving test! Yippee!

Total cost for not yet having a license: 245 euros

Oh yeah, the hardest thing about moving to Ireland? For me, it's been missing everyone from home.

February 2009

noreply@blogger.com (Chrys and Bill) — Sat, 07 Mar 2009 17:36:00 +0000

Happy Spring!

February 1 is the first day of spring in Ireland. All four seasons start on different dates in the former "British Isles" than they do in the US and other countries. Rather than starting on the solstices and equinoxes (Dec. 21, March 21, June 21, Sept. 21) the calendar is thus:
Spring - February 1, Summer - May 1, Autumn - August 1, Winter - November 1. These dates are exactly halfway between the solstice and equinox dates and were celebrated by the pagan Celts as the festivals of Imbolc (spring), Beltane (summer), Lughnasa (autumn) and Samhain (winter).

The temperature and look of the landscape don't change so dramatically throughout the year in Ireland so the seasons are based more on daylength. Already the days are about 3 hours longer than at the beginning of the year and the plants are really waking up. It makes sense for winter to be November through January when the days are at their shortest. Now you know why Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream takes place on June 21, which is the middle of summer in Ireland and the UK.

During February the days got longer and the sun higher, and the herbaceous plants, which never really went dormant, burst into growth. Mama cows and their newborn calves started appearing in the fields around our house, happy to be eating the fresh green grass.

At the beginning of February we took advantage of a clear, crisp weekend to bring Sonya to the sea for a long walk. We found the perfect place for blind-dog walking in a flat field next to the rocky shore, near the coastal village of Doonbeg.

We had a lovely view of Slieve (Mount) Callan, a few miles inland.

Bill and Sonya

The walk ended up at a beautiful strand (sandy beach) where a few other folks were out enjoying the rays.

In mid-February it warmed right up for about a week and we were working in just long sleeve shirts and even t-shirts. Here Bill is laying a brick edging for a new garden that we're designing and planting.
Grass grows unbelievably fast here and even climbs up into shrubs and low-branched trees! It invades gardens so quickly that we are recommending brick edges set in 4 inch deep concrete for those who want low-maintenance plantings. This is at a holiday home near the sea and the owner won't be able to weed it frequenly. (We planted ivy around the perimeter which will completely cover the ugly wall in a few years.)

We put up a polytunnel (hoop house) in our garden - essential for starting seedlings now and for growing heat-loving vegetables in the summer. Trying to grow tomatoes, peppers and eggplant outside was a failure in last year's cool, wet summer. Our landlord Aiden bought the polytunnel for the property (what a guy!)and we did the work of setting it up. It's filling up fast with trays and pots of little seedlings.

Toward the end of the month it briefly turned back to winter. We woke up last week to a weird glow outside the windows, and when we got out of bed we were very surprised to see about 2 inches of wet snow on the ground. By mid-day it had melted. This is the first time in three winters here (2005, 2008, 2009) that we've seen real snow. We had a dusting one day in January but it melted in about 20 minutes.

Dublin, on the other hand, is on the east side of the country where it's quite a bit colder and gets more snow. When London was buried in twelve inches of snow in last month Dublin also got dumped on. Without snow plows and snow tires, hundreds of commuters were stranded in their cars in the Wicklow Mountains south of Dublin.

It was weird to see the thatched roof covered with snow!

I was inspired by our trip to Barcelona and decided to try making some tile mosaics. Actually, it's something I've been interested in ever since we built our house and I tiled both bathrooms. But seeing all the incredible mosaics in Barcelona was the final push I needed to try my hand.
First stop for any new project:the public library to get some books on making mosaics. Then onto the tile store for a hand-held tile cutter, free sample tiles and square sheets of bath tiles - one euro for each one foot by one foot sheet! I've also been saving bits of old plates that we dig up in the garden and broken pots from our landscaping clients. Then I found some inexpensive things to use as bases (a second hand picture frame, a terracotta saucer and some little terracotta pots from a garden center) and started playing around. These are the first three things I made.

I was pleased with the way this lizard came out! After seeing all the dragon/lizard imagery in Barcelona I was really excited when I found a cardboard lizard and googly reptile eyes at a craft store. The sides took a long time so the next one I make will have painted sides instead. It's about two feet long and could be a garden sculpture or hang on a conservatory wall.

This is how our veg garden looked at the beginning of March. We have been eating carrots, potatoes, leeks, chard and kale fresh out of the garden right through the winter. We can't get over the yields of root crops here - double to triple what we would get in the same amount of row space in upstate NY. Things never stop growing. I dug some carrots and parsnips as long as my forearm! Now we're planting peas, salad greens, broad beans, and starting to eat cauliflower and purple sprouting broccoli that we planted last fall. And we only started this garden a year ago, when we first moved in. This is a good country for food security thanks to a year-round growing season.

The perennial gardens are starting to wake up as well.

The Irish Economy
I'm sure some of you are wondering about the economy here. It's pretty bad right now - lots of job layoffs ("redundancies") and plant closures. Unemployment is up to 10 percent and people are freaking out because they remember the hard times, which lasted into the 1980's here. At the same time, the Irish don't take things lying down and there have been massive protests in Dublin, by teachers and schoolchildren, union groups and old-age pensioners. A huge number of old people showed up at the optimistically named march (many were using walkers and wheelchairs) and the government backed down on their plans to take away the free medical cards for over-70's from those with higher incomes/assets. Now every Irish person over 70 will continue to receive 100% free medical care and prescriptions, and the government will have to find other ways to trim billions in spending.

What does the end of the Celtic Tiger mean for Bill and I? Well, landscape calls have been slower compared to last spring but we are still working outside when the weather permits. I imagine that we won't get many of the nice big projects that we got last year, building patios, raised beds, stone walls and paths. But a lot of people here invested in big gardens during the Celtic Tiger years and I imagine they will not completely let them go. We are doing advertising saying we can assist people who want to learn how to maintain their own flower gardens and start new vegetable gardens, a popular cost-saving measure in recessionary times.

We will also start selling at the farmer's market again when it starts up later this month. This year we'll have some of our own produce and will also try selling some of the mosaics I've been working on. Rather than cooking hot lunch foods at the market, which was a bit of a pain, we're going to sell foods we can make the night before, like sushi rolls and containers of homemade hummus and salsa. I ordered a lot of flower seeds to have bouquets for the market, and if I can grow enough flowers I am thinking about doing flowers for weddings. People will still be getting married during the recession but they'll be looking for ways to economise on wedding expenses.

Bill and I are creative survivors - we can pinch a penny till it squeals and grow a lot of our own food, so I'll think we'll manage to get by. I'm just thankful that it's spring - imagine how much more depressed we'd be if it was November and the economy was crashing- and I'm thankful that we, and our loved ones, have our good health.

January 2009

noreply@blogger.com (Chrys and Bill) — Sun, 01 Feb 2009 19:05:00 +0000

Barcelona!

In mid-January we took our first super cheap flight with Ryanair - our roundtrip tix to Spain were only 35 euro each, including all taxes and surcharges. We flew right next to the snow-capped Pyrenees - the view alone was worth the cost of the flight. Ryanair flies all over Europe so we're hoping this is just the first of many low-cost explorations. We left our dog Sonya in the care of a couple of friends who stayed at our cottage. It worked out really well, so now we feel like we have the freedom to travel around Europe. This was one of our reasons for moving to Ireland.

La Rambla

We went to Barcelona for two reasons. First, family and friends on both sides of the Atlantic have been to Barcelona and rave about what a wonderful city it is. Second, our friend Josep grew up in Barcelona and we have always wanted to visit him. We met Josep in 2005 when we were wwoofing for some horrible people in West Cork -the ones who worked us to the bone then fed us seaweed from the beach. We bonded with Josep during those few tortuous weeks and have kept in touch ever since.

On our first day in the city we met up with Josep and walked down La Rambla, a very long pedestrian mall that ends at the sea, and Josep gave us a guided tour of the old Roman part of the city. Here we are under a cool footbridge connecting two buildings.

And on a not-so-scenic street.

"Living statues" are very popular on La Rambla, even at this time of year. There was one every 20 feet or so! I read that there is even a school in France where people learn how to do this.

He made me do this.

Parc Guell

One of the things that makes Barcelona so special is the architecture, in particular the works of Antoni Gaudi, a 19th century architect who was a whimsical, crazy genius. He was somehow able to turn Willy Wonka-esque fantasies into reality.These two buildings stand at the entrance to Parc Guell, designed by Gaudi for a wealthy patron but now a public park.

The grand entrance to Parc Guell

St. George and the.......salamander?

Josep explained that Saint George is the patron saint of Barcelona, and dragon imagery is seen everywhere. Somehow Gaudi's version doesn't look very threatening.

These stone walkways, like something out of the Jungle Book, snake all around the 50 acre park.

Cool planters made of stone.

Gaudi's house in the middle of the park - it was surprisingly plain on the interior.

Casa Battlo

Another of Gaudi's confections, created for a wealthy family. The roof symbolizes St. George (the cross) and the dragon (curved roofline textured with scales).

Windows in living area - no straight lines anywhere. Gaudi was very much inspired by natural forms, and the lower levels of the house had an underwater feel.

There were two of these gorgeous light wells in the middle of the building, bringing natural light to every room in the house. The second and third levels are now private apartments - I can only imagine what they pay to live in a Gaudi!

In the attic, rafters like the ribs of a whale.

On the roof - whimsical chimneys and a tiny room beneath the dragon scales.

Details of the dragon scales

La Sagrada Familia
This is Gaudi's great masterpiece - a huge cathedral started in the late 1800's and still not completed. It's supposed to be finished around 2025. The cathedral is so big that it was hard to get a photo of the whole thing from close up. This is taken from the top of Parc Guell - the cathedral spires rise above all the surrounding buildings on the right side of the photo. (Our hostel was very close to the silver bullet on the left side - a great landmark that made it easy to find our way back each evening!)

One entrance to the cathedral celebrates the birth of Jesus. It's very ornate an no surface is left uncarved.

Inside - the tall columns supporting the roof branch out like trees.

Construction workers inside the cathedral - talk about job security!

the other entrance depicts the crucifixion and is much more stark and sombre.

These huge columns slant at a crazy angle - architects and engineers say this is not stable, but Gaudi believed in nature.

Miscellaneous Architecture

Another Gaudi building, La Pedrera.

In Barcelona I finally understood how architecture can be an enduring form of art in a city. I guess I prefer this over-the-top style to the minimalist straight lines of most American cities. This is an ornate music hall.

Another fancy one - the dude might be St. George? Columbus?

A beautiful apartment building.

Scary dragon.

Barcelona has its own Arc d'Triumph

Girona
We flew in and out of Girona, about an hour outside of Barcelona. This is one of the ways Ryanair keeps its airfares cheap, by flying to secondary airports. We didn't mind, because it gave us a chance to see a little bit of the countryside outside the city, and somebody tipped us off that Girona is also well worth visiting. We stayed there on our last night before flying back to Shannon the next morning.

With only a few hours of light to explore, we headed right for the medieval quarter of Girona. The old city wall is amazingly intact around half of the old city, with a walkway along the top and beautiful views over the city. Girona is surrounded by the Pyrenees mountains on three sides.

On top of the old city wall. No visigoths here!

Secret little gardens have been created in the ruins of buildings that used to stand next to the wall.

St. George fighting the dragon.....

...and after the fight, friends again.

Ballycorick* Blues
Now before you go gettin' all jealous about our travels, I'll tell you the truth and say that after our trip, which was immediately followed by an awesome old-time/bluegrass music festival nearby, the reality of our financial situation coupled with bad weather and homesickness gave me the blues. I had 'em bad, bad enough to write my first song ever. Here it is so you can feel a tiny bit of sympathy for us, living here so far away from all our great friends and family whom we miss greatly.
(*Ballycorick is the name of our townland.)

Sing to any classic blues riff.......

The kerosene heaters broke
The antique toilet won't flush
Down to our last 10 euro
Living on spuds and corn mush

Chorus:
I got the Ballycorick Blues
I got the Ballycorick Blues
I got the Ballycorick Blues
On this snowy January day

I was married to Americay
Then Ireland stole my heart
Moved here to have a fling with her
And now my life is torn apart

Chorus

We live in old stone cottage
Moved in a year ago
Saw the thatch on the roof
And we just couldn't let it go

Chorus

First we drowned in the wettest summer
Then our pipes froze at 6 below* (*celsius)
I thought the grass was greener here
But now it's covered up with snow!

Chorus

I left a good job
I left a good home
I left all my friends and my family
Oh why did I have to roam

Chorus

So take my advice
If you're living your dream
Don't think the grass is greener
Don't change horses in mid-stream!

Or you'll get those Ballycorick Blues
The Ballycorick Blues
The Ballycorick Blues
On a cold, snowy, sleety, rainy, haily
Pissing down January day!

PS. I'm feeling a lot better. Signs of spring here!

December 2008

noreply@blogger.com (Chrys and Bill) — Sun, 04 Jan 2009 16:37:00 +0000

Kilkenny

Kilkenny Castle

Our neighbor, Mick, is a camera man for the Irish language TV station, and he routinely drives all over the country on weekends to film sporting events. We finally realized that here was an opportunity to get a ride, ummm lift, to other parts of Ireland for day trips. In early December we travelled with Mick to Kilkenny, a mid-sized town about 3 hours from here in the southeast of Ireland.

One of the main attractions in Kilkenny is the castle. Originally built in 1172 by Strongbow, all that remains now of the original castle are the round towers at 3 of the corners. In 1391 the castle was bought by the Butler family and the defensive walls between the towers were knocked down. Much larger halls between the towers were built to create a grand residence for the family and their many servants. We took an excellent guided tour of the castle and learned that the name Butler used to denote a very high rank, not a servant, as one might think. The Chief Butler had the risky job of tasting the wine and food served to the king to make sure it wasn't poisoned.

In the 1800's the Butlers modernized the interior of the castle, which was now their "country house", their main residence being in England. Just a little country cottage for them, they considered it far too rustic and damp to live in year-round. They continued to use it occasionally into the 1930's, when it became too expensive to maintain, so they sold it to the city of Kilkenny for one pound. It has now been restored in the Victorian style, as it would have looked when it was last occupied by the Butlers. The castle sits within 50 acres of rolling parkland and mature trees, and judging by the number of people walking that Sunday seems to be a popular place for strolls by the people of Kilkenny. (They make a good ale in the town, by the way. Probably available at good beer stores in the US.)

There are lots of other old buildings in Kilkenny, including this medieval church and round tower. We were so excited because our guidebook said that the tower is open for climbing, but that day the tower door was locked. There was a sign saying it was closed due to the cold weather - frost had made the metal steps slippery. Damn! It was such a fine, clear day that the views from the top would have been outstanding. One of these days we're going to find a round tower that we can climb.

On the way to Kilkenny we stopped for breakfast in another town, and right across from the cafe was, you guessed it, another castle. These things are about as ubiquitous as petrol stations here, but I hope I never get blase about seeing them. To the Irish, they're just a humdrum feature of the landscape.

Clare Glens

Another day we drove an hour east to Clare Glens, a river gorge that forms the border between Limerick and Tipperary. OK, I know it's not Taughannock Falls (the highest waterfall in the eastern US, located near our hometown of Ithaca) but waterfalls are not very common here so it was lovely to experience the sights and sounds of rushing water.

After our walk at Clare Glens, we had lunch at nearby Gleninstall Abbey. Yes, it looks like another castle, but this one was originally built to house monks and is now a private boarding school.

Cool waterspout on the tower at Gleninstall Abbey.

Holiday Parties
What is Christmas like in Ireland? I thought it would be a more subdued, religious holiday but I thought wrong. (I should have known better - the Irish love to party and find any excuse. In addition the usual festivities for birthdays and weddings, they have big parties for baby christenings, communions and confirmations, often at the local pub. Funerals and wakes always seem to end up at the pub as well.) As for consumerism, the Irish spend more per capita at Christmas than any other Europeans. To see the crowds in the shops before Christmas you would never know there is recession happening here.

We had a solstice party on December 21. The party started at 3 in the afternoon, and at 2:30 in the morning we saw the last guests to the door. About 30 people came throughout the day and night. There was feasting, of course.......

and music......

......and a little dancing.

We went to a big New Year's Eve party/50th birthday party. Irish parties always start with eating and end with singing and dancing (come to think of it, feasting followed by dancing is the natural progression of parties the world over). The cool thing about Irish parties is that everyone can either sing, dance or play an instrument. (And sometimes all three. But not at the same time.) The quiet guy in the corner will suddenly cut loose with the most amazing operatic baritone, or a teenager will get up and do a "brush dance", which is done with a push broom and looks like something Gene Kelly would do. (Come to think of it, with a last name like Kelly he was probably Irish himself.)

We had some amplified music by the next generation.

There was set dancing, not to be confused with step-dancing, with the rigid arms and flailing legs (as seen in Riverdance). Set dancing is done in sets of four couples, and looks like the ancestor of square dancing.

I did some old-timey plucking on the banjo.

Th musicians played a tune called Shoe the Donkey, which is always accompanied by this particular high-stepping dance, although no-one seems to know why. (And yes, that is Bill playing flute in the video.)

No video of the brush dancing at the New Year's party that night, but you can click here to watch a youtube video of some guy doing a brush dance in a pub. (Trust the Irish to come up with such a joyous dance using the most mundane household cleaning implement!)

Local Walks
A couple of the places nearby where we take Sonya for walks: the bog road......

....and our own local waterfall at Clondegad, about a mile from our house.

Winter Solstice Sunset

November 2008

noreply@blogger.com (Chrys and Bill) — Sun, 07 Dec 2008 16:58:00 +0000

Tipperary

The Rock of Cashel

It's not really a long way to Tipperary - at least not from County Clare, which borders County Tipperary to the east. One bright and sunny Wednesday morning after too many wet and gloomy weekends we decided to ditch work for the day and take a road trip. (Ah, the benefits of self-employment.) We drove to the Rock of Cashel in east Tipp, about 90 minutes from our cottage. The Rock of Cashel is a group of defensive and religious buildings built high on a rocky escarpment above the surrounding plain. When you first see it from about 10 miles away it looks like something out of a fairytale, or Oz.

The Rock has been a strategic site since early times. The first church was founded here in the 6th century, with a Romanesque chapel and round tower added in 1127. In the 13th century a massive cathedral was added to the existing buildings, and in the 15th century an archbishops castle was built next to the cathedral. The result is a hodgepodge of massive stone buildings displaying a milleniums worth of architectural styles.

A round tower is always a sign of an early defensive site. These towers have no door at ground level. In the event of an attack, the residents (usually monks) would climb a ladder to a door 20 feet off the ground and pull the ladder up after them. I desperately wanted to climb this tower, but unfortunately we left our ladder at home.

The Romanesque chapel and Gothic cathedral were chock-full of strange and beautiful carvings. Stone heads, some lovely and other grotesque and grimacing, were hidden everywhere. It must have been a bit creepy for fearful church goers in the Middle Ages.

The Galtee Mountains

After we spent a couple of hours touring the Rock of Cashel, we drove into the nearby Galtee Mountains for a late afternoon walk. We decided to come back to this beautiful area next summer for a much longer hike.

And while we're in Tipperary, here's a funny story I heard.......
We're friends with a little old Irishman named Patsy O'Grady. He's retired from farming and now he goes out every night to listen to traditional music, which is how we met him. Patsy was expressing surprise that any American would want to live in a place as rustic as our thatched cottage. I said something about the influence of the Little House on the Prairie series of books when I was a child. Patsy replied, "Little house where?" and I started to explain about the prairies of the American midwest. "No, no," he stopped me, "I know what a prairie is. I'm just after remembering that my niece used to talk about the show, and here I always thought it was an Irish show - you know, Little House in Tipperary?"

Dromore Wood

Dromore is an old demesne (estate) that's now public land, with a castle, a lovely wood (the word is singular in the British Isles for some reason) and walking trails around a lake. It's about 20 minutes from our house and a nice place to take Sonya for a walk. This particular Sunday was misty and very atmospheric.

Kilbaha, West Clare

On a very different type of day we drove to the coast of West Clare. It was cold with gale force winds and crisp sunshine interrupted by fierce hail showers. As we drove into the tiny village of Kilbaha we spotted this cool little tower perched on the edge of the cliff, so we parked the car and tramped up the farm road to investigate further.

Inside the tower was a wee little fireplace and large windows looking out over the water to the east and the west. This is a strategic point where the waters of the Shannon meet the Atlantic ocean, and someone had the enviable job of sitting by a cozy fire and occasionally glancing out the windows to check for invading ships.

The view from the tower windows: To the east, the River Shannon.......

....and to the west, looking toward the Atlantic Ocean.

The Little Ark of Kilbaha

In the 1840's priests were allowed to say mass once again, but in the townland of Kilbaha there was no landlord that would permit a church to be built on their land. This must have been at the time when it was still illegal for Catholics to own land. For a while mass was held in a makeshift tent but it was less than ideal in the coastal winds and rain. The priest figured out that the strip of land exposed at low tide was a "no-man's-land" that wasn't owned by the local landlords. He had a little church on wheels constructed which could be wheeled to the beach at low tide for mass. The priest would say mass inside the ark while the parishoners knelt in the wet sand around it. It must have driven the landlords crazy, and it certainly increased mass attendance in Kilbaha when word of the little ark spread throughout western Ireland.

Bridges of Ross

Beyond Kilbaha, on the Atlantic side of the peninsula, are some incredible cliff formations called the Bridges of Ross. The wind was so fierce that day that the air was filled with salt spray, hail, and gobs of sea foam flying through the air. I would love to have taken a digital movie here to capture the drama of the day, but we didn't dare take the camera out for too long without a waterproof cover.

The winds can be really incredible at the western edge of Ireland, and people get blown off the cliffs with some regularity. Last spring during one extremely windy week 4 people were blown off cliffs in County Clare. Usually the wind blows from the sea but it can suddenly gust around and come from behind, catching someone unawares. We're very aware of the dangers so we practically crawled on our bellies to the edge of the cliffs for a view of the huge waves that came crashing through the stone arches. At one point we were walking on a path, well away from the cliffs, when a strong gust of wind lifted me right off my feet and toward an electric fence, but Bill grabbed my arm and yanked me back to earth just in time. By the time we got back to the car we were coated with frozen salt spray and felt like survivors of Shackleton's voyage.

How Dark Is It?
Ireland is a lot further north than NY State, so we get asked that question a lot. It starts getting light around 8 am and the sun is up by 8:45. The sun sets at 4:30 and it's full dark by 5 pm. The afternoon darkness falls about the same time as it did in NYS, but the mornings are definitely darker. This is because we are in the extreme west of the Greenwich Mean Time zone, so the sunset quite a bit later than it is in Greenwich, England.

Summer is when we get the payoff. On the summer solstice the sun comes up at 5 am and sets at 10:30 pm, with an extremely long dusk and dawn because the sun hardly dips below the horizon. It's actually dusk-like all night, and it's easy to see outside till about midnight. We had summer evenings where we were out in our garden until 11 pm because we couldn't tell how late it was. Aaah, looking forward to those long summer evenings........isn't it reassuring to know that they'll come round again?

Happy holidays everybody!

October 2008

noreply@blogger.com (Chrys and Bill) — Thu, 06 Nov 2008 17:41:00 +0000

Irish reaction to the US election: Go America!
Of course I was delighted, no, make that dee-double-diddly-delighted, that Barack Obama won the US election. The Irish followed the election closely and Obama's win was the top story in all Irish newspapers the next day. A friend here texted me to say "Heard the good news. Am driving to work with a big smile on my face. Go America!" Another Irish friend, who lived in NYC in the 80's, texted to say "Well done America! We are all thrilled. There is a great air of expectancy that this election will benefit the world."

On the other hand, I've heard a few comments by Irish economists that Obama could be bad for the Irish economy. He plans to lower the corporate tax rate to bring back US businesses that have set up headquarters in Europe. Starting in the 90's, Ireland offered very low tax rates to US businesses, something like 10% vs. 30% in the US, and as a result a number of American businesses like Dell and Microsoft set up large operations in Ireland. Due to the global downturn these companies are being downsized here, and the Irish are very worried about the loss of well-paid jobs. (McCain had also vowed to lower the US corporate tax rate, so it's a bit unfair for Obama to be solely maligned for this plan.) In my opinion the Irish became far too dependent on foreign corporations for job creation, and it would make more sense to offer incentives to small businesses and entrepeneurs to create jobs that will not be shifted away as the global situation changes.

Goodbye Ori

Long Beach, NJ, 2007

A few weeks ago our old dog Ori stopped eating and drinking. The vet had warned us that this would happen at some point and it would be the indicator that the liver tumor was causing other organs to shut down. She was not in pain but had obviously lost the will to live, and when after two days it was clear that she wasn't going to recover we took her to the vet to be put to sleep. It was so sad to say goodbye, but at the same time we are so thankful that she was well enough to bring to Ireland 5 months ago. When Ori first came to Ireland in May she was still in relatively good health and she got to take some long walks with us in the beautiful green hills around our cottage. She also enjoyed the first summer of her life where she wasn't uncomfortably hot. With her thick Husky fur she was much more comfortable in an Irish summer than hot and humid upstate NY.

Ori at Ballycorick Creek, June 2008

Sonya, our other dog (the blind one) definitely knew something was wrong and was out of sorts for a few days around Ori's death, but we've been giving her extra attention and long daily walks and now she is back to her normal goofy self. She is a love and we are so glad to have her here with us!

Gleninagh Castle

Gleninagh Castle is in North Clare, on the shore of Galway Bay with the limestone hills of the Burren rising up behind it. The castle is in a great location for defense, with long views of the shoreline. We really wanted to get inside but it was well-fortified with a heavy iron gate at the door.
(Note to self: next time bring hacksaw.)

Check out the gaps at the base of these protrusions. They were designed for shooting arrows straight down onto the heads of invaders at the door.

Bill on the flaggy shore at Gleninagh

Holy well

There are thousands of these holy wells in Ireland. Some are just trickling springs emerging from a tumble of rocks, and others, like this well at Gleninagh, are enclosed in small stone buildings. Originally associated with pagan deities, the wells were adopted into the Irish version of Christianity (which continues to have a heavy pagan influence) and each well was named for a Christian saint. The wells are thought to have healing powers, and many are said to heal specific ailments such as warts, lameness, or failing eyesight. People leave small tokens and offerings at the well, and will often bring a small bottle to take some of the holy water home with them. When we first moved into our cottage I found a bottle labeled Holy Water under the kitchen sink, so I sprinkled it liberally around the cottage and on our newly purchased VW Polo. ('Can't hurt, might help' is my motto.)

I experienced my own minor miracle at one of these wells three years ago, in West Cork. I had burnt my fingertips to the point of blistering on the stovetop at a hostel. Later that day we were at the hermitage of Saint Finbar, and I held my fingers in the water of the holy well to soothe the pain. Later that evening, I noticed that my fingertips felt completely better and the blisters were completely gone. I showed my fingers to Bill, the eternal skeptic, and he was completely flummoxed. So maybe there is something to those old pagan beliefs.

Rag Tree or Raggedy Bush

Another pagan tradition often associated with holy wells, this is a rag tree growing out of the holy well. These trees are usually hawthorn, which are closely associated with fairies. Fairy trees whose roots grow out of the holy wells are believed to have special healing powers. People will bring a scrap of cloth belonging to a loved one who is ill, and tie the cloth to the branches of the rag tree. It is believed that as the cloth melts away in the rain and wind the illness leaves the person's body.

(Get this - about 10 years ago they were building a new highway near Limerick. There was a fairy hawthorn in the path of the new road, and the Irish construction workers refused to cut the tree down. Terrible things are supposed to befall those who fell a fairy tree. The tree still stands, and the four-lane highway swerves around it. This probably wouldn't happen today - now all the road workers are Polish.)

On the Mass path

After lunch at the castle we hiked up an old Mass path into the Burren hills. When the Catholic mass was deemed illegal by the English Protestants (punishable by death for priests who broke the law), masses were held in the hills of remote areas. The path was steep with this fantastic view of Galway Bay and the Burren hills on the right. The castle is just visible at the left of the photo, a small white rectangle near the shore.

Jump for joy - a beautiful sunny day!

Walled Garden

We visited a walled garden in Kilrush, about 10 miles south of us on the Shannon estuary. The waterside location combined with the protection of the tall stone walls means this garden is frost-free year round, and they can grow amazing tropical plants within, like this 20 foot banana tree.

Straight out of Dr. Seuss, the crazy tall flowers of Echium.

Another view of the huge Echium flowerstalks, exclamation point of the plant world.

Cool purple berries

Warning: Juvenile humor ahead
We frequently listen to a classical radio station. The Irish pronounce the sound "th" as a hard "t", so everytime the radio host announces that they've just played the third movement of a particular piece, we crack up. (Just think about it for a moment.)

Irish place names that make me snicker like a third-grader: Feakle, Spiddal and Ballybunion.

True fact: Feakle was having problems a few years back with E. coli in their water supply.
Probably not true: someone told me that Feakle used to have a community newsletter called Feakle Matters, but as we were in a pub he was probably full of shite.

September 2008

noreply@blogger.com (Chrys and Bill) — Sun, 12 Oct 2008 10:32:00 +0000

We survived the August deluge and things started looking up in September. The weather improved, and the vet was able to drain a lot of fluid from our dog Ori's abdomen so she is more comfortable. Hopefully she still has a few good months left.
Of course we're concerned with the bad news from the US financial markets, which is having a ripple effect on the Irish economy, now officially in recession. But for now we've got work, food in the garden, wood piled up next to the stove, and a cozy dry house.

The Pollog Holes of Kilkee
One gorgeous weekend we drove to the seaside town of Kilkee with our
friend Mary and her son Jennan. Kilkee has a deep harbour that is
protected by a long spit of land between the harbour and the sea. It's exposed at low tide and covered with water at high tide. The spit of land is made of rock dimpled with large and small holes, and at low tide it's a popular place for swimmers and walkers. The large holes are the size of small ponds - the water is warmer here than the surrounding sea water so it's a popular swimmng and snorkeling spot. We wandered around looking into the smaller tidal pools for starfish, sea
urchins, sea anemones and crabs, but kept an eye on the tides as they can quickly engulf this narrow rocky arm.
Jennan had a net so he was able to bring up some starfish for a closer look. (Catch and release, of course)

After this photo was taken Jennan stripped down and jumped in the
water, although the air temp was in the 50's and the water probably not
much more. We're not as hardy as Jennan so we're going to borrow wetsuits and go back to the Pollog Holes to do some snorkeling.

Starfish crawling into the pool - surprisingly fast!

A tiny multi-colored crab.

Mary and Bill in their version of American Gothic

Ennis Farmer's Market
We decided to try a new business venture to add to our income mix and to have a new experience. We're selling hot and cold lunch foods - burritos, nori rolls, samosas, and veggie wraps - at the Ennis Farmer's Market every Friday. This is a small market that just started a few years ago, so it doesn't have the huge crowds like the Ithaca Farmer's Market, but it's starting to catch on. There are about a dozen vendors selling produce, baked goods, locally produced meats and cheese, preserves and jams, and nursery plants. We are the first ones to be selling hot food. We went through the inspection process by the health dept, which allows us to use our own kitchen as long as we stick to lower-risk vegetarian ingredients. We make the components (refried beans, sushi rice, samosa filling etc.) at home and then do the actual assembling and cooking on site.

Business has been building slowly but steadily. Ethnic foods are fairly new here, and there is not one Mexican or Japanese restaurant in Ennis (pop. 30,000). Much of our marketing right now is explaining what everything is and giving out free samples. About three quarters of the people who try the samples (there are some who are afraid to even try!)end up buying something, and after 4 markets we are now getting repeat business from employees who work in the town.

Obviously we're not going to get rich doing this, and it doesn't even pay as well as if we did landscaping on Fridays, but it's a change of pace and nice to have a bit of a chat with some different people. Basically we're doing it for the crack (see definition below). And any food left over from the market means we don't have to cook much on the weekend. The market ends just before Christmas and starts up again next March, when we hope to have veggies and plants for sale as well.

Irish-English to confound and confuse

Crack Occasionally you see signs like this one, and confused looking Americans peering warily at the entrance to the 'crack den'. Good crack (or craic as it's spelled in Irish) seems to be the goal of most people here, especially on weekends. It means a good time, and usually involves music, lots of people and a pub, party or festival. The ultimate good time is mighty crack.

Sallow means suntan or brown skinned. People kept telling me I was sallow, and I'd check the mirror to see if I was yellow and sickly-looking. That's the definition for sallow in every other English-speaking country in the world.

Cute is an insult here. It means devious and sneaky, as in "That shopkeeper can be real cute and overcharge you if you don't watch him." Sometimes you'll hear someone referred to as a "Cute Kerry hoor (whore)" in which the person in question is usually a male and not necessarily from Kerry. It means one who is very deceptive.

Cross (as in crossroads) There are no road names here, so people will give directions by referring to landmarks or other roads. When looking at new gardening jobs, we might be told to go to the third cross and turn right. We, quite reasonably I think, assumed that a cross was a four way intersection, but in Irelan it can mean any
type of road junction. We got lost many times until we figured this one out, and getting lost here (a maze of tiny roads with no names) is not mighty crack, believe me. We just thought they were bad at counting.

Call means to show up in person at someone's house. This also caused some confusion for us in the beginning. Me, after looking at a new garden job: "We'll call with an estimate and plan for project." Them: "Grand, but be sure to ringbefore you call." Me: "Huh??"

Killone Abbey
We cycled to a beautiful old ruin of an Augustinian nunnery built in the
1192. (In the picture above you can just see me in the arched doorway on the lower left of the building to get an idea of its size.) There's a macabre legend about Killone Abbey: Nearby Killone Lake was the abode of a mermaid who used to swim up a small brook and steal wine from the
crypt beneath the church. She was stabbed by a servant of the abbey but managed to drag herself back into the lake where the water turned crimson from her blood. Every forty years or so the lake is supposed to turn red.

A narrow hidden staircase accesses the roof. Killone Lake is in the background.

Harvest Day at Bunratty Castle

The castle with Durty Nelly's Pub, in continuous use since 1620, in the foreground.

One lovely Sunday there was a special Harvest Day celebration at Bunratty Castle and Folk Park. There was music and dancing, threshing and grain-grinding, and the Irish turned out in droves for the crack. There's a little village within the park complete with a working pub and a stage set up out front with musicians, singers and dancers.

Bodhran players

This is a weird Irish sport called sheath-throwing (not sheep throwing). Each contestant started by prodding and poking the straw sheath or even retying the string altogether, then pitching it over the high bar.

(The camera was the wrong way around, so turn your head to the left to
see film this properly.)

Threshing grains at Bunratty the old-fashioned way.

One man pitches the sheaths of grain into the thresher. Straw comes out of one end of the thresher and piled into a high mound. Grain pours out of the other en, where it is funneled into large burlap bags.The bags of grain were then ground by hand and cooked into breads and scones in one of the cottage kitchen. Bunratty was doing brisk sales of delicious scones and breads made from the freshly ground grains.

The Folk Park at Bunratty consists of a dozen or so little cottages that were moved here from different parts of Ireland. Each region had its own style of building based on local building materials and weather conditions. Our thatched cottage would fit right in here.

August 2008

noreply@blogger.com (Chrys and Bill) — Fri, 05 Sep 2008 14:43:00 +0000

I have to be honest and say that August wasn't the easiest month for us.
In fact it was probably our toughest time since February, when just after
moving here we were jobless, homesick and our cottage was colder than an
icebox. It's all part of the adventure and we know that this too shall pass.

Ori in a rare moment of August sunshine

Our 13-year old dog Ori was diagnosed with a liver tumor in May when she
was getting checked out by the vet for the plane trip to Ireland. At her
age, and given the size of the tumor, surgery was not recommended.
She's still hanging in there but her belly is huge now while the rest
of her is getting thinner. She is not in pain and still has a hearty
appetite, but she can no longer get up on her own and will only walk
very short distances once we get her on her feet. We have to accept
that she is coming toward the end of her life and we've made
arrangements with a vet who can come to the cottage to euthanize her
when the time comes. He said we'll know when it's time because she'll
either stop eating or her breathing will become very labored. It could
be another few weeks or hopefully a few months, and we are spoiling her
as much as we possibly can. We're very grateful that we were able to
bring her here from the US in time to enjoy her last few months.

Meanwhile, Sonya (our blind dog) is doing very well. To see her walk
around the house and gardens you would hardly know she's blind. She
gets a good walk every day through the beautiful fields and lanes
around our house. I wear a bell on my right ankle so Sonya can follow the sound when we're walking. Occasionally she loses track of me and stops, turning her head in all directions to try locate the sound. Then I have to shake the bell loudly by doing the hokey-pokey - you know, stick my right foot in and shake it all about.

August showers bring September flowers
Nasturtiums planted from seed last May

Dahlias love the rain

The other tough thing has been the weather. Last month was the wettest August on record here. For Ireland, that's really saying something! It precipitated in one form or another (rain, drizzle, mist or heavy fog) almost every single day last month, with almost 10 inches of rain compared to the usual 3-4 inches. Most notable was the intensity of the rain - usually it rains lightly but there were some serious tropical downpours. Some areas of the country, including Dublin, experienced heavy flooding - people were evacuated from their homes and major highways and railway lines were closed.

My friends and former co-workers in Ithaca are probably having a good
chuckle right now hearing me complain about the rain. I was always
freaking out about the lack of rain for our home garden and city of
Ithaca plantings that were my responsibility. Now it's as if every
prayer for rain that I have ever hurled heavenward was answered in
August.

The rain has been amazing for some plants, especially the shrubs and
perennials. A 3 foot tall clematis we planted in May that now has a
multitude of vines exceeding 12 feet. But too much rain was bad for
other plants, like our potatoes and tomatoes that all got blight.
(The potatoes were salvageable but the tomatoes all ended up on the
compost heap. So sad.) Cool-season vegetables have been great - we're
growing the biggest onions, carrots and broccoli ever.

Here's joke we heard in the pub: "We've been having a Muslim summer - a
little bit Sunni but mostly Shiite." It's somewhat reassuring to know
that even by Irish standards it's been really horrible.
Still, we're thankful that we have our health and a variety of
interesting activities to do inside, like playing music, writing and painting.
Now I understand why the arts are such an important part of the culture in
Ireland. You have to do something that feeds your soul when the rain is
lashing down outside the windows.

History at Craggonowen Heritage Centre
Despite the rain we did a couple of cool things last month within Clare.
We're sticking close to home due to Ori's health as she certainly can't
be left with anyone else now. Early in the month we spent a day at
Cragganowen, a heritage site with an old castle and reconstructed
versions of a ringfort, a crannog (a ringfort built on a man-made
island) and a fulacht fia (an ancient cooking site). Members of a
re-enactment group in period costumes were engaging in day-to-day tasks
appropriate to each particular setting.

Medieval times at the castle

A knight and his lady camped in front of the castle

The knight talking about his battle armor

Spinning wool dyed with plants

Weaving on a traditional loom

Wall hangings in the castle

The silversmith and his wench

Top floor of the castle

Bronze Age at the Fulacht Fia
A fulacht fia is an ancient cooking site which might have also been used
for religious ceremonies. A large rectangular pit was dug out and lined
with clay so it would hold water. Rocks heated in a nearby fire were
thrown into the water pit until the water was almost boiling, then a
huge hunk of some kind of meat (wild boar, deer, etc) was wrapped in
leaves and cooked in the boiling water. I bet they used these things as
hot tubs as well.

The day we were there a bunch of hobbity-looking re-enactors were demonstrating the art of forging bronze tools and weapons.

The guy on the left is pumping a set of leather bellows. The bellows feed air to a very hot fire in the round clay pot via the hollowed out branches. Within the clay pot there is a clay beaker containing a mixture of raw copper and tin. The guy on the right is getting ready to lift the beaker of molten metal out of the fire.

Pouring the liquid metal from the red-hot beaker into the mold for
an axehead. The mold, which is in two halves, is made from clay and
bound together with rawhide.

A minute later they take the newly forged axehead out of the mold to
inspect it. Once they have a hot fire going they can crank out several
dozen bronze tools or weapons per day.

Comparing the newly forged axhead to one that's been cleaned up and polished, a process that could take several more hours.

A selection of weapons and tools forged from bronze, some mounted on
wooden handles.

We learned everything about casting bronze tools. But no matter how closely I observed, and regardless of what angle I took photos from, I didn't find the answer to this burning question:
What do bronze age re-enactors wear under their woolen cloaks?
Do they stay true to historical accuracy or are they wearing their Fruit of the
Looms?
It would have been a chilly day for those who stayed true to
character.

Iron Age at the Crannog
A crannog is a circular man-made island in a lake with a ringfort
constructed on top. They built up these island with layers of timber,
wattle, brush and mud, and the idea was extra defense - an enemy would
be slowed down and more vulnerable wading or swimming while attacking
your ringfort.

The lads on the crannog were making chain mail.

They started with a length of straight wire which they coiled tightly around
a metal rod. The coils were cut apart to make small uniformly sized
rings. These rings were then pounded with a heavy hammer to make them
flatter and thinner, and finally riveted one to the other to make the
chain mail. This is a really slow process. I asked these guys how long
it takes, and they said it would take the knight's apprentice about a
month to make the headpiece shown in the picture below.
Sir William dons his chain mail.

Early Christian era in the ringfort
Ringforts are raised circular homesteads which usually contained several
yurt-like homes. There are tens of thousands of remains of ringforts in
Ireland; there are about 5 within walking distance of our cottage.

Grinding grains and baking bread on an open fire

A movie of a battle scene inside the ringfort. They rule was
that they had to stay behind the line on the ground while attacking
each other with spears.

Archeological Excavation at Caherconnell Ringfort
This is an aerial view of Caherconnell, a huge stone ringfort in the Burren. (I wish I was in a plane when I took this, but I was actually in the visitor center taking a picture of the interpretive signage on the wall.) Caherconnell had continuous habitation from the first to sixteenth centuries. This was determined last year when there was an archeological dig in the ringfort.

Looking at Caherconnell ringfort from ground level.

Archeologists had noticed an interesting looking formation of large stones just outside the ringfort and speculated that it might be the exit of a souterrain, an underground escape passage from inside the ringfort. In August they conducted a dig of the area and invited members of the public to participate. Thankfully this was one of the few days in August when it didn't rain.

About 25 volunteers showed up to help. We worked with an archeological team and a U. of Galway professor who specializes in Irish medieval structures

.
Digging it!

While the volunteers and archeologists were having a tea break, I could get a clear photo of the dig. Here we've stripped the grass and topsoil off, revealing the stone structure below.

One of the exciting finds of the day was two Edward the First silver coins. One was minted in 1300 and the other in 1310. This photo shows one side of the coin bearing a cross with shamrocks in each corner. The medieval history professor said it was unusual to see these two symbols together on a coin.

Imagine those two coins just lying there in the top few inches of soil for the last 700 years!

July 2008

noreply@blogger.com (Chrys and Bill) — Mon, 04 Aug 2008 16:44:00 +0000

Evening sky at Spanish Point

Bill and I took separate holidays this month so we could take turns
staying with our dogs. They'd only been in Ireland with us for a month
and we didn't want to leave them with a stranger so soon, but we're hoping to leave them with a dogsitter this fall so we can catch one of those supercheap Ryanair flights to Europe. The fares will be going up next year due to the high price of oil.

Bill had a blast at the Willie Clancy Week in early July. It's held in
the coastal village of Milltown Malbay in West Clare. For 51 weeks of
the year Milltown has a population of a few hundred, but for that one
week the place is heaving with thousands of wanna-be Irish musicians
who come from all over the world. They're here to take lessons from the
best traditional musicians in Ireland, with over 20 levels of
instruction for each traditional instrument (Uillean pipes, flute, tin
whistle, accordian, concertina, banjo and bodhran). No beginners
please, and you have to audition to get placed in the right class.

Camping at Spanish Point

But Clancy Week is much more than just a school - it's also a huge
street party with music sessions and ceilis (dances) happening in every
pub from mid-day till very late at night. For a small town Milltown has
a lot of pubs - at least 15. Laws are ignored so children can play
music in the pubs and the local gardai (police) look the other way when
it comes to closing times.

Music Session in Milltown
(Taken with a cell phone)

Bill took flute lessons in the morning, Irish lessons in the
afternoons, and played at sessions until 2 or 3 am every night. There
were also impromptu sessions going on in the campground by the sea. He
was utterly fried by the end of the week and slept most of the Sunday
he returned. I went out to join Bill at the pubs on several evenings
and had an awesome time, but I'm glad I wasn't camping out at Spanish
Point. It was cool, wet and windy the entire week, so I was glad to go
home each night to our snug little cottage.

Newfield, New York
In the middle of the month I flew to the US for a visit with family and
friends followed by four days at the amazing Grassroots Festival near
Ithaca. My daughter Monica and her boyfriend flew in from Santa Monica,
California, and my parents drove up from Washington DC. My brother Tom,
his wife Martha and their son Ian also live in Newfield, so it was half
a family reunion (two out of four siblings).

My parents, Ann and Ed, and I

My 5 year-old nephew Ian, Monica's boyfriend Matt, Monica, and Monica's best friend Amanda

My bro Tom manning the barbie

Mon and Amanda enjoying Tom's homebrewed suds

Ian and his recycling truck

At the Hacienda
I got a chance to hang out with Sharon and Bubba in their brand new
kitchen, an addition to the Hacienda. The water and stove had just been hooked up and a bunch of us got to enjoy the first meal prepared in the new space. Plus, I got a chance to fire the potato gun. Just imagine - if the Irish had potato guns they could have kicked the English out centuries ago!

Sharon and Bubba in their new kitchen

Bubba fueling the potato gun with propane
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A movie of me firing the potato gun (and I nailed the shed!)

Sunset from the deck on the roof of Sharon and Bubba's new kitchen

Eileen and Heather on the deck

Sharon and Pam

Grassroots Festival
I spent a fabulous 4 days at the Grassroots Festival in Trumansburg NY. This was a great way to see just about everyone I know from Ithaca plus amazing musical performances. I didn't bring my camera to the festival but you can see photos at the Grassroots website: www.grassrootsfest.org

Walking in Paradise
After I returned to Ireland, Bill and I took the dogs to an old estate,just south of Ballynacally, called Paradise. The original estate was about 1,000 acres looking onto the River Shannon, and included a stables, a walled garden, exotic trees and shrubs, and an impressively large house.

The old mansion at Paradise with trees growing inside

There are many of these old ruins around County Clare - most of them were owned by English landlords who were not popular with the Irish and as a result many of the old houses were torched during The Troubles. We did a little research on Paradise and it turns out that the Henn family was good to the Irish and so the house was in good shape until the 1970's when it burned accidentally (although rumor has it was burnt for insurance money).

Detail of one of the round towers on the house
We saw an old picture of the house - the two round towers once had fanciful pointy roofs.

Front entrance to the mansion

Detail over front door
The H stands for Henn, with the motto Gloria Deu (Glory to God) below.

I can't explain why I love these crumbling old ruins. We've been to quite a few of them in our travels through Ireland. There is something very melancholy and spooky about what used to be a thriving old estate that housed many generations of a family. Ruins like this are a reminder that what man builds will be torn assunder and nature will come creeping back in the end.

Inside - remains of fireplaces on the first and second floors

Trees growing inside the round tower

View of the River Shannon from Paradise

The grounds of these old estates are usually the only places in the west of Ireland where you'll see huge old trees. The English learned from the war of independence with the United States that guerrilla fighters hide behind trees (the Americans learned this technique from the Iroquious) and so most of the trees in Ireland were cut down so the Irish couldn't hide in the forests. The tree trunks were shipped to England and used for ship building and making charcoal to fuel the industrial revolution.

Our cottage gardens

In memoriam - Jim Nash, 1948 - 2008
Sadly, my ex-husband Jim passed away on the Monday after Grassroots. He had been fighting cancer for over 2 years. Although Jim and I split up when Monica was small, he made a lasting impact on my life. It was Jim who really got me into gardening, and what started as a hobby turned into an obsession and then a career. He was the first man I met who identified wildflowers and learned the latin names. Jim was a free spirit who lived an unconventional yet rich life. He was always quick to lend a helping hand to his friends and neighbors. He helped me see that life is too short to live by someone else's standards, and if it wasn't for his influence on me I might not be here in Ireland today. He will be missed.

June 2008

noreply@blogger.com (Chrys and Bill) — Sun, 06 Jul 2008 12:27:00 +0000

Spancil Hill Fair
Every year for the last 5 centuries an east Clare village called the Crosses of Spancil Hill has held a big horse fair. The Celts were fabulous horsemen, and for centuries the best horses in all of Europe were bought and traded at the Spancil Hill horse fair. The fair has traditionally always been held on June 23, no matter what day of the week that falls on. This year the fair was on a Monday, but our landlord Aide urged us to take a couple hours out of our work day to check it out. Aiden has horses, and he used to race (and win, judging by the number of trophies and blue ribbons in his house) until a bad fall on his head put him into a coma for a month. He luckily came out of it with no lasting damage, but it put an end to his racing career. He still rides for pleasure. Slowly. And with a helmet on.

The Spancillhill fair green was a scene of quiet chaos. Hundreds of people, mostly men, standing around holding the reins of one or more horses. We had to thread our way between and behind the horses, which was a bit nerve-wracking since we'd been warned that every year some people get kicked by skittish ones.

Horses have been cross-bred and interbred for so long here that there's a huge diversity of size and shapes.

We saw big-ass horses........

tiny knee-high ponies..........

huge muscled draft horses bred for working.....

sleek race horses.......

long-haired hippie horses with beards........

donkeys and burros........

and the colorful characters who were there to buy and sell.

There was also a great selection of farm DVDs for sale with sizzling titles like "Combines Galore", "Silage Machinery at Work" and that all-time blockbuster "John Deere Tractors in Action". Bill had to elbow his way through the crowd around the display rack in order to take this picture.

The Old Yellers

The Old Yellers at our thatched cottage
We went out to see an American band called The Old Yellers at a pub in Ennis - they play excellent original roots/country/rock. It was really great to see some live American music after all the diddledee-di-dee-o trad music we hear at sessions. After the show I asked the band where they were staying for the night, and it turned out they had a long drive ahead of them up to Galway where they would be sleeping on the floor of a friend. I asked if they wanted to stay in our thatched cottage instead and drive on to Galway the next day, and they were psyched! They really liked our cool little cottage, and we were happy to host up with a yankee breakfast of pancakes and maple syrup the next morning.

After brunch and a garden tour, we went with the guys to see the Cliffs of Moher in the mist and cloud, followed by a brief stop at the edge of the Burren for a picnic. At Ballyvaughan they headed on to their gig in Galway while Bill and I went further into the Burren to do some botanizing.

We had a great time hanging out with the Old Yellers and told them to plan on staying with us when they tour Ireland in November. We've always been treated so hospitably by the Irish that it was nice to have the opportunity to extend that gracious Irish hospitality to other travellers.Check out their website at www.myspace.com/theoldyellers.

Picnic spot at the edge of the Burren near Ballyvaughan

Wildflowers of the Burren
After we departed from the Old Yellers in Ballyvaughan, Bill and I went deeper into the Burren to check out the unique wildflowers that grow in grassy patches on the bare limestone rock. This is the best time of year to see orchids - around 25 species of small orchids are native to the Burren, and most of them bloom in May and June. We found nine species of orchids in a meadow that afternoon.

Spotted Orchid

Spotted Orchid - pale variety

Bee Orchid

Frog Orchid

Butterfly Orchid

Pyramidal Orchid

Dense Flowered Orchid

Frog Orchid

O'Kelly's Orchid (white form of Spotted Orchid)

Botanists love the Burren because the plants there are a bit of a mystery. When the earth was in the ice age the Burren was inhabited by alpine plants. When the glaciers retreated and the earth warmed, Mediterranean plants moved in but the alpine plants remain. This is probably the only place in the world where you can view Mediterranean plants growing side by side with alpine species that are normally found at high altitudes. The Burren is just above sea level and it rarely freezes due to all the heat-retaining limestone and proximity to warm ocean currents, so it's a mystery why the alpine plants thrive here. The limestone also causes the flowers to have extremely colorful flowers, and because the soil is so shallow the tiny plants don't have to deal with competition from larger plants.

Cranesbill

Vetch

Crimson Clover

Burren meadow with orchids,daisies,clover and yellow rattle

Antiquities of the Burren

While searching for wildflowers, we stopped at a couple of ancient sites. Because of the very mild climate and good drainage of the limestone (which made for good grazing lands in winter), the Burren was densely inhabited a couple of thousand years ago. It was a lot greener then, and the bare limestone "pavements" you see now are due to prehistoric over-farming which caused soil erosion. Early peoples built lots of ringforts and giant tombs, called dolmens, which can still be found scattered throughout the Burren hills.

This is Poulnabrone, the most famous dolmen in the Burren. It's massive - archeologists have estimated that the capstone alone weighs three tons. The remains of several dozen people were found within, buried here around 3,000 B.C.

Here's Bill approaching the ruins of a shebeen built within a ringfort. A shebeen is a speakeasy - probably built in the 18th or 19th century when the Irish were forbidden by the English from hanging out in pubs together (and fomenting revolution while drinking their pints). The Irish built shebeens in out-of-the way locations, and this one, hidden within the old walls of a Celtic ringfort, was probably hard to spot.

May 2008

noreply@blogger.com (Chrys and Bill) — Wed, 04 Jun 2008 20:54:00 +0000

Bringing our dogs to Ireland
Our dogs are finally here with us in Ireland! Getting them here was a challenge in many ways. They'll never be able to tell us what it was like for them in the belly of plane, but they seemed just fine when we were finally reunited with them after their long journey from JFK airport.

It was touch-and-go as to whether or not they would both be able to travel. A health check within 10 days of the flight is required by the USDA. We were concerned about Sonya, the 9 year old dog that went blind a few months ago, but the vet said she was fine to travel. However,she was concerned about Ori's liver, which felt larger than normal when she examined her. Ultrasound showed that there is a large tumor in Ori's liver. Since Ori is 13 years old and still energetic and seemingly healthy otherwise, we decided against any kind of surgery at this time to let her enjoy the quality of life that she has now. When she starts showing symptoms we'll have to see what the options are, but at her age we're concerned that surgery would be traumatic and it may not buy her much more time than she already has.

The biggest snafu with flying the dogs to Ireland was with some bonehead at the Delta Cargo check in desk at JFK. He insisted that Bill hand over some extremely important rabies documentation when he checked the dogs in. These are the documents that prove that our dogs don't carry rabies, and they are not allowed into the country without them. Ireland does not have any rabies, and as an island they want to keep it that way.

The dogs arrived with photocopies of the rabies docs instead of the originals, and couldn't be released from quarantine until the Irish vets had seen the originals. After a few panicky hours while we tried contacting Delta to find out where the *%#$ the documents were, they were finally located at JFK and sent on a plane that evening. Meanwhile we spent the night in a hotel near the airport and had a joyous reunion with Ori and Sonya the next morning. The poor dogs had been in cages for a total of 48 hours before we could get them out of quarantine.

Sonya is getting around her new environment far better than we ever expected. She has a good grasp of the house layout already and easily finds her way from the door to the food dish and/or couch (her two favorite places). Occasionally she gets herself stuck in a corner and will just stand there wagging her tail until rescued. Outside we can just lead her along by voice - she uses her hearing to navigate and follows right along. If you stop suddenly she walks right into the back of your legs.

We have great places to walk right outside our cottage, and the dogs are getting both morning and evening walks. Sonya follows along by using her ears - I find that if I scuff my feet or sing, talk or whistle she stays more or less behind me. The road to our house is a tiny little dead-end lane (we're at the end) with just two neighbors up the road. Instead of ditches next to the road, such as in upstate New York, the lane is edged with stone walls on either side and the walls are thickly cloaked with years of vegetation - ferns, mosses and other herbaceous plants. When Sonya does blunder off to the side she runs into a bunch of cushiony plants - her signal to veer back to the middle of the lane. There are also lovely open fields all around our house where she can walk freely. They both seem happy and content, and with two dogs at our hearth life in our little cottage feels complete.

Many thanks to everyone who helped us out with the long process of getting them here: Our good friends and house renters Eileen and Heather who took such good care of the dogs for 3 months since we moved here; Bill's sister Carolyn, a vet who helped out with the documentation and gave us good advice and support; Danny for picking Bill up when he arrived at Syracuse airport; and Bennet who drove Bill and dogs to JFK and helped with the airport check in process. We couldn't have done it without all of you.

Walks
We've had some beautiful walks in the Burren and along the Fergus estuary near our house. The photos show some of the early wildflowers of the Burren, most notably the intense blue gentians. Photos don't do justice to the amazingly vivid blue of these rare alpine flowers.

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The music scene
One of the reasons we moved here is the great music culture. It's an integral part of the social fabric here, and almost everyone of any age plays an instrument or at the very least knows a song or ballad to share. A trad sesh (traditional session) can be found in just about any pub on any night of the week. Unlike a show with the band on a stage, the musicians sit around a table (usually filled with pint glasses) and draw from the repertoire of thousands of Irish tunes, which are always played in sets of three. The biggest problem with the trad sesh is that the Irish are hugely gregarious and also quite loud talkers, so if you don't get a spot close to the musicians it's impossible to hear over the roar of the crowd.

We've also been enjoying some bigger shows in Ennis and Limerick, about 45 minutes away: Martin Hayes, an Irish fiddler extrordinaire played with Dennis Cahill, and American guitarist; Berroguetto, from Galicia, Spain playing a jazzed-up rocked-out version of their traditional music; Crooked Still (a hot young bluegrass band from Boston) and Sharon Shannon with Shane McGowan from the Pogues. Shane was entertaining but in a pathetic kind of way - pretty blotto and unable to remember some of the words to his own tunes. Fortunately the crowd knew every word and helped him out until he got back on track.

Gardening
And of course, one of the reasons we moved here is the great climate for gardening. Here is one of our work projects - building stone raised beds for a lovely couple named Deirdre and Eamon who we've gotten to be friends with since we started working for them. And our own perennial and vegetable gardens are totally rocking right now!