This story is set in the picturesque Muckross National Park in Killarney, Co. Kerry. Every summer as far back as I can remember, we as a family would annually travel down to Kerry and stay in an old farmhouse in Brewsterfield on the outskirts of Killarney for a consecutive month, we were graced by having
The day is mild. May is here. No rain for days. The river water unhurriedly running towards the sea. Gently flowing over rocks, then plunging downward. Idling in the pool below. Picking up speed momentarily when gushing over the weir not made by man but nature. Pleasant, busy gurgling. Steadily. Perpetually. I listen to it
On arising each morning these days those are the ifrst words to be uttered by me without fail, whether statement, quesiton, prayer or mantra ifts my mental bill I’m not too sure but that’s how it is for me. As a senior ciitzen living alone cocooning in lockdown no one hears if I talk to
What a bubble! One full of water. The mystique of water always pervaded my being, after all didn’t I come into this world with the breaking of water. With such an entry I was wet behind the ears. From early childhood water held my imagination. Growing up, the fairy fort in our land was always
Dear reader, My name is Tom. It’s the Year 2020 – the year of the pandemic and my last year in Primary School. This year, I was looking forward to Confirmation, not isolation! However, Covid 19 and lockdown are words that became part of our everyday language. Parents working from home, some losing their jobs,
There are places we go that take us back in time, where the sounds and smells, and the feel of the ground under our feet says ‘you are home’. The Camac has been part of my life for as long as I can remember. It has been part of my family history. It is the
It was a warm school day. I knew that because I was only six or seven years old, and I was, indeed, in school. Senior Infants, to be exact. Behind my school, there was a small garden area- although given my tiny size, it may as well have been an Olympic stadium. It was filled
Summer comes to our house with the stink of boiling calf s foot glue closely followed by the antiseptic odour of hot tar. “Won’t last much longer. She’s had her day.” Dad says, “I think this summer at the island will be her last one.” The following Saturday Dad and I take the boat –
Allow me to recall the culmination of events in the village of Mountshannon, on the western shore of Lough Derg. On this night in the early hours of June 2 2008, perhaps a hundred souls or more, most born and bred there, many others long blown in, a few for the first time, danced with
You’ll never know what lies beneath if you don’t look, a man’s love for the river he grew up with. His strong arms cast the line to the other side of the fast-flowing river Blackwater. He gently coaxed the line back toward him hoping something might come with it. “Oh well “he thought to himself
Late last spring, when schooling and work had taken its toll on the whole family, I needed space. I needed solitude. Ideally somewhere wild, in nature, with flowing water. The canoe was hauled from under the hedge and loaded onto the roof-rack. Two tie-straps later and about as many minutes’ drive to the river Fergus
The tiny stream beside our house was a favourite place to play. The bridge was a source of politics for our neighbours who claimed that either side of the small bridge was of equal importance. The question; “Are you on the Knoxtown side or the Killegney side?” became a well know statement and point of