Evening Visit near Castle Leslie Estate

See above us a small but very brilliant moon, high in the sky, shining through the scattered clouds and onto the lake. It is a night sky, bright with stars and moonlight, a night sky that you only see in the countryside in Ireland.

 

 

The waves seen through the woods were all a ripple.

They glimmered.

And

Sparkled.

It was on such a night that I imagined as a child Joseph, Mary and the Infant Jesus fleeing to Egypt.                                               

Joseph had been warned in a dream that King Herod was intent on killing the child and so he took the baby and Mary to safety.

  

King Herod the Great killed all boys under the age of two in the hope that the new Messiah would be among them.                                         

It was a massacre of the innocent.

"A voice was heard in Ramah, weeping and loud lamentation, Rachel weeping for her children; she refused to be comforted, because they are no more."  Matthew 2:18

 

It was chilly as we walked through an arched tunnel cut through the hedge. I observed a stand of tall trees like black-paper-cut-outs close by me.

The Scots pine trees are now maybe 30 metres in height.

They always give me a feeling of well being.

We had finished our meal in the comfortable old world ambience of The Hunting Lodge.

It was a pleasant two and a half hours in Conor's Bar. The milk chocolate glossy woodwork and warm, pale mustard painted walls complimented the exquisite food.

We were seated at a small, square glass-topped table. Beneath the glass on display was an arrangement of Victorian cutlery. We surmised about the handles...maybe ox horn, bovine bone, or stag antler....the larger pieces had inscribed and pierced detailing on the blade surfaces.

 

The silverware was of the big house era long before stainless steel flatware and later disposable plastic.....eating utensils.

 

Homeward bound.

A Palestine flag, on the border between the northern border towns of Emyvale and Aughnacloy, shuffles a little.

Uncomfortably. 

This was normally the domain of  two other conflicting flags.

I shuffle a little too.

Uncomfortably.

But helpless.

 

The Israeli military offensive against Rafah, Gaza's southern border town is imminent.

One million Palestinian refugees are sheltering in this area.

My great fear is that if Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyhu's troops mount a ground assault there will be no Joseph to lead the innocent to safety.

No Egypt.

Only border patrols....and high walls with razor wire.

No room at the inn.

No wise men.

No star to follow.

 

A voice will be heard in Rafah, weeping, and great mourning, Rachel weeps for her children; as she refuses again to be consoled, because they are no more.

 See above us a small but very brilliant moon, high in the sky, shining through the scattered clouds above the city. It is a night sky, bright with stars and moonlight a night sky that you only see in Palestine.

                                 

 

Photos:

From top:

Castle Leslie grounds: Nelius Flynn

The Flight into Egypt: Vittore Carpucchi

The Rest on The Flight into Egypt: Rembrandt van Rijn

Massacre of The Innocent: Leon Cogniet 

Victorian Cutlery: Curious Atelier

A Full Moon Over Palestine:Tim Frank

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Honour Thy Father & Thy Mother

 

The third year student's rooms were above the chapel.

 

 

It was said that Fr. Finnegan had seen the devil there one night when he went in to pray. It was all over the college the next day.

It frightened us.

The wooden desks in our classroom had seen better days. Each one had a bit of history, of something, or someone inscribed on its surfaces. One of the first things I did whenever I sat at a new desk was read it.

We had come up to collect our school bags after playing soccer in the alleys.

 

There were older boys there doing some study. I wondered why they hadn't gone to study in their own classroom but I said nothing.

Class was done for the day.

We were in good form and I only caught the end of what one of the older lads said....

"....because of your appearance"

"What's wrong with my parents?"

Eyes burning

With a piercing rage.

Right fist raised.

Tethering on the brink of a white knuckled assault.

That muscled arm, strong and hand normally unused to any violent action was trembling fiercely.

Twitching.

Wired now for justice.

For the honour of his lovely parents.

I could see his urgent need to protect their integrity after this affront to their good name.

It overshadowed all consequences of what might unfold in the principal's office later.

"I said your appearance not your parents!"

My friend dissolved.

Embarrassed.

Shrunk.

The fight was gone from him.

He had not seen a trinity on that pedestal. 

 

 

 

Agus Anois, An Aimsir

 

 

In Ireland we love talking about the weather and observing it.

We even have more than twenty words or terms for rain:

 

Soft rain,

mizzle,

drizzle &

mist.

 

Showers.

 

Lashing, 

pelting &

torrential rain.

The Heavens opened, 

Cats & dogs !

There was a cloudburst, a downpour and it was coming down in 

Buckets !!

Met Éireann is Ireland's National Meteorological Service. It is a division of the Department of Housing, Local Government and Heritage. It is the leading provider of weather information and related services in the State.

I measure the daily rainfall in North Monaghan at 10:00 am every day for Met Eireann.

Even on Christmas Day.

I record the measurement on Form 714.

I get a stipend twice a year for my efforts. My rain cheque !

 

 

At the end of each month I send off the monthly rainfall information to Met Eireann's head office in Glasnevin, Dublin. 

 

 

My official job title is Rainfall Observer.

I have been doing it for 28 years.

In Ireland, like all countries with a temperate climate we have four seasons . Spring Summer, Autumn and Winter.

Sometimes we experience all four seasons in the same day.  

If you ask an Irish person the difference between Summer and Winter in Ireland they will probably tell you that in Summer the rain is a bit warmer !

The weather in Ireland is never boring.

Or predictable. 

Just like its people. 

It is 22nd. January......

There will be a full moon in four nights.

A storm started to blow about 5:00pm. It had been forecast and arrived promptly at the appointed time. Strong winds knocked down my garden fence and the village was dark.

The street lights were out first of course.

Heavy rain swept down and danced frantically around the back yard.

The Christmas tree I planted in the early 1980's seemed to struggle against the violent ebb and flow of the storm surges.

Then the house was without power.

Gradually the windows of surrounding houses were warmly lit by candlelight only.

 

 

There was no cold.

We walked down the garden path and looked at the black and grey clouds driving wildly and tumbling uncontrollably across the sky. 

Sometimes the Moon poured in through gaps and illuminated the garden.

It was eerily quiet though.

The only sensation was the power of the storm rising and falling and blowing through the Winter trees. 

 

A January  storm.

No electrical sounds.

The occasional light of passing cars on the street flitting past the front of the house.

 

And now the wind outside my window will be my lullaby.

It will have passed before I wake.

I will have some rain to measure at 10:00.

 

Teeming,

pouring

&

sheeting........