Category Archives: writing

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Gratitude

I just want to take a moment to thank everyone who reads my little ramblings and stories here. When I began it was just a place to put the things I was so passionate about and now it has blossomed into a tiny sparkling gem that makes me so very happy. Today I was given a gift that let me know I had moved someone enough to find and leave flowers on a grave and it damn near made me cry in a wonderful way.

Two things happened last week. I got to write the story of a woman who has been in my head and heart for years and then Scotland took over everything. Between writing about Anne Devlin, one of my passions and heroes, and the heartbreak of Scotland’s no vote, I have felt a little spent. I am still trying to find the words for a Scotland post – which is still coming to be sure – and have been focused on that quest.  The radio has been silent for a bit as I puzzle out just what I want to say.

However, today I got a notification from a stranger named Annie (ha!) who had read my story of Anne Devlin on a recommendation from a friend and who is currently visiting Ireland. She let me know that she had gone hunting for Anne’s grave in Glasnevin and then sent a picture of the bright red flowers she had left there for Anne – and for me – because she had been touched by my telling of her tale. It brought tears to my eyes and a giddy smile to my face that has yet to go away. To know someone reads an entry and is inspired by it is amazing. It is motivating me to quit my stumbling and get back into the writing patterns I had started before hitting the roadblock in my brain and heart that is the Scottish Referendum.

So thank you Annie, and everyone else, for occasionally stopping by and reading this silly little dream of a journal. It was just a place for me to ramble on about Ireland and history without driving all of my friends batty and now it is a thing that sometimes brings other people joy and inspiration. For that, I am eternally humbled and grateful.

Annie left flowers for Anne

Annie left the red flowers for Anne today

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The Ghosts of Kilmainham

Kilmainhamlock

It has been said that tourists – and mostly American tourists – are the only reason that Kilmainham Gaol is still open because most Irish couldn’t be bothered with it these days. My new friend who is now happily married here in the U.S. agrees with the travel books that say things like that because he and his generation seem to be sick to death of the glorious dead mentality and couldn’t care less about the history and the Troubles that have haunted the country since even before the Rising of 1916. In fact, he was shocked that we were still asked questions about our religion and last names on our travels to Ireland at the end of last year, both in the Republic and the North because he thought those kinds of things were finished.

However, when I did tour Kilmainham Gaol, I was in a group mostly made up of Irish people and all seemed just as profoundly affected by it as I was. Perhaps it was because of the off season which meant my group was thankfully smaller when we went through the infamous prison, or perhaps it was an anomaly altogether but I was glad for it. It made for a decidedly more intimate and more personal experience.

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A hidden castle in Ireland

On the last day of our recent journey in Ireland, it was pouring down rain and we were headed back toward Shannon from Belfast. We were on the main highway and getting cranky because of the storm and from the bigger roads, there’s not a lot of super beautiful scenery or many interesting things to see . It was not the way we wanted to leave, so once we were in the west, we picked an exit at random and started exploring it. There were a few ruins here and there. There were a few historical signs pointing off in random directions and we found ourselves in the middle of nowhere on a country road hunting for castles. A tractor was coming at us from the other direction and as we pulled over to let him pass, we asked him if there were castles nearby. He told us about 3 or 4 of them and ended with “but you know it’s raining, right?”  He shook his head when we said we didn’t care, muttering something about crazy girls. Then he began to give us directions to the one that wasn’t a hotel saying,  “Well then, just go up the road a few miles, look for the dog at the top of the hill, pull into the driveway of the stone house, knock on the door, and ask for the key to the castle.” We thanked him and continued on down the lane. We found the dog, shivering and wet. We pulled into the drive, and knocked on the door of the stone house. When a very startled man answered and we asked for the key to the castle, he too responded with “You know it’s raining, right?” while he frantically looked for it. After a phone call or two and a reasonably thorough search, this is what he gave us – there’s no mistaking that it is the key to a castle, with that kind of key chain.

The key to the castle
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Ireland in the Atlas Obscura

I write for a few places – one of my longtime favorites is the Atlas Obscura which is a combination of an obscure travel guide and a historical Atlas. Their Irish section was woefully sparse before I filled it out (which I am still doing) and sometimes I like to share the entries.

The deserted village of Slievemore was one of the first I knew I had to add when I went to Ireland. We were there in the early hours of the morning and it was pouring down rain but we explored it anyway.

Interesting fact: When you’re deep into the Gaeltacht island of Achill in December, it is important to note that there are no off season accommodations. In fact the Annexe Pub was the only place we could find anyone and the amazing bartender had to call a friend who owns the summer hostel to turn on the heat and give us a room for the night. It was a much appreciated and really lovely thing for him to do for the crazy tourists who were traveling without an itinerary. If you make it out that way, have a pint – the Guinness was perfect – and give him some love from the crazy American ladies that he saved from a freezing storm.

The deserted village of Slievemore

The deserted village of Slievemore