Search This Blog

...a glimpse into life on Vancouver Island, needle felting, photography, food, gardening, etcetera...etcetera
"Happiness always looks small when you hold it in your hands, but let it go, and at once you learn how big and precious it is."
Maxim Gorky

Showing posts with label Ireland. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ireland. Show all posts

Saturday, October 14, 2017

there is always light somewhere in the world...

Amidst these dark and evil days in the world,
I am recharged by light.
Not in the physical sense of the word so much as the feeling of the word.
There are two definitions of the noun:
light

noun
  1. 1.the natural agent that stimulates sight and makes things visible.
    "the light of the sun"
    synonyms:illuminationbrightnessluminescenceluminosityshining, gleaming, gleambrilliance,
     radiancelusterglowingglowblazeglaredazzle
  2. 2.understanding of a problem or mystery; enlightenment.
    "she saw light dawn on the woman's face"
    synonyms:aspectangleslantapproachinterpretationviewpointstandpointcontext
    huecomplexion 
So in this context, I speak of the second meaning.
You'll get my drift as I go on.
I had an urge to go thrift shopping the other day and it was just one of those lucky days.
  1. The old wood bobbins were a thrill, since I collect them and at $5 a piece, a steal!
  2. Also from the same shop was the little Wade Irish mustard/salt pot. $6.
  3. I just learned that they started producing this pottery in Ireland in 1946.
  4. More serendipity on that later!
  5. On to the next shop!
  6. As I was leaving empty handed, I glanced up on a shelf and the little book
  7. caught my eye...'The Turf-Cutters Donkey Goes Visiting'.
  8. I picked it up for $1.95  before even looking inside, just for the cover.
  9. As I was paying for it I commented on the sweet little cup and saucer that
  10. happened to be at the front (I thought it was someone elses purchase).
  11. The shop keeper said "isn't that the sweetest thing? You can
  12. have it for $1. It has a crack in the saucer".
  13. I of course took it home to maybe plant a little succulent in it.
  14. The scene of the country cottage...hmmm, is there a theme happening here???
  15. One more shop to go and I found the fabric to cover cushions...already cut to size: $2
  16. When I got home, mug of tea in hand, I began exploring the little book.
  17. It belonged to this young lady...
  18. ...and lo and behold it was given to her by Eunice,
  19. Christmas   1946!
  20. The same year that the Wade Irish Pottery began production!
  21. How about them apples!
  22. The colour plates in it are quite lovely...
  23. ...worthy of colour photo copies to frame...
  24. This one will be perfect for the upcoming "season of spooky malarkey!"
  25. as a blogger friend, Ciara commented this morning...more on her in a bit...
  26. There are some cute little black and white illustrations throughout as well...
  27. So here's the kicker...this morning when I opened my Instagram comments there
  28. was this one from milkmoonmama:

  29. 'Ooh ''tis the season for spooky malarkey! Little story here (bear with me): I spent Wednesday morning unpacking an entire library that was rescued from a house that was being cleared out following the Elder owners passing away a few years back. The friend who rescued it didn't know what to do with it but kept it until our little school came along and he was delighted to donate it (as were we!) So there I was, unpacking and lovingly cleaning each book, and the entire contents are nature, natural history, geographical, gardening, and Irish interest, dating from the 80's and backwards. And there it was, the single novel, one I had forgotten the existence of since I read it age 9 - The Turf Cutters Donkey by Patricia Lynch. A little electric moment into my childhood. I was charmed and delighted. And now this! You've made my day. How lovely to feel this connection across the ocean. Have a lovely weekend! 😘'
 
Many years ago Ciara and I 'met' via our blogs and followed each other through
various turning points in our lives.
She would post the most moving prose along with her heartwarming photos of
The Motherland (Ireland) and I got to know her and her family and her thoughts on life,
learning, love and philosophy.
It is indeed a big, bad scary world out there but it is also this:
Friends and kindred spirits can be found in the most unique ways.
I urge you to open your heart to these happenings and see the LIGHT 
that this sad but beautiful world has to offer.
  
Thank you Ciara for giving me yet one more reason to
believe in the good.
💚






Wednesday, October 5, 2016

The Ballad of Runway O'Reilly

His life was not an easy one.
Growing up alongside 4 sisters and 3 brothers, it was always a struggle for his ma and da to make ends meet.
Ireland in the 1920’s was particularly tough for such a large family but they did what they could.
All of the kids worked to keep the family fed. Tending the garden, fishing, looking after the family cows…not much time for play.
But sometimes, on his way home from the village, wee Jack O’Reilly would hop over the fence into the neighbours field and dream…first lying on his back looking up into the clouds…imagining what it would be like to hover along side those magnificent puffy shapes.
How the blue sky over the landscape beckoned to him!
Effortlessly, almost taunting were the birds high above…the swallows swooping, the hawks endless gliding, the flocks of the other, older geese in perfect formation.
Jack so desperately wanted to join them in their flight but he had much to learn about the ‘art’ of such skilled flying. He would practice his takeoffs along the dirt track, gathering as much speed as he could and then…that moment of takeoff…just barely making it off the ground and clumsily flapping his little white wings for a dozen or so yards before he got tuckered out and had to come down.
But the one thing he had always been good at was his landings. They were perfect, flawless and so smooth. Touching down at just the right moment and gently coming into a light jog before slowing down to a calm and controlled stop.
And so he followed his dream when the chance came…
The year was 1939. Jack was 19 years old. The world was at war once again. His fathers tales of the first war were mostly about his buddies and the laughs, but Jack had later learned that there was so much more that the Da would never speak of. The mud, the rain, the trenches and worst of all the bearing of witness to the horrors of death and destruction all around him.
But Jack signed up anyway. Off to Northern Ireland to join the RAF.  As a young gander he kept practicing his flight skills until he finally gained the confidence he needed. He was nicknamed ‘Runway O’Reilly’ not only for his skilled landings but  for his beautiful takeoffs which he had perfected as well.
Runway O’Reilly took many a novice pilot under his wings to teach them all he knew.
His romantic versions of flying soon turned into flights of survival and fear though.
The raids over Northern France were the worst. 
The enemy was ruthless and Jack lost many a mate. 
 He was especially endangered for his roll in various top secret missions but kept faith that he would return home to Ireland some day.
It was on such a flight near Paris, near the end of the war that Jack thought it was all over…blindsided by a blast, down he went and then…darkness.
The next thing he knew he was in a crisp white hospital bed. At first he thought he was in heaven and that the nurses moving around him were angels floating about. 
He soon realized he was in a makeshift shelter for the wounded in an abandoned stone church, the bombs and blasts still roaring all around them.
But there was one beautiful red head who was not a nurse. Genevieve was her name. She would come to feed him and help him take his pain medicine. She had been living nearby in a village when she saw Jack come tumbling out of the sky. With her sleek and quiet skills of navigating, she found him and brought help to him, transporting him to the medics in the church. She had removed his leather helmet, stuffed it in her rucksack and had forgotten about it until months later after Jack had healed and been smuggled into Spain.
He never saw her again but had dreamt of her long red hair and her kind, lovely amber eyes. It was these two things, he believed, that were the most powerful medicine he needed to heal.
Jack returned to Ireland 7 years later, married and had goslings of his own…
but he never forgot the kindness of Genevieve and always wondered what had become of her. 
He hoped she had made it through the war safely. 
On sunny, spring days, Jack will find himself gazing upward...to those times so long ago...
...the kindness and bravery of one special soul would never be forgotten.



Curious about that red head in the army hospital?
You can read Genevieve's part of the story here

'The Ballad of Runway O'Reilly' will be on display (and available for purchase) at 
The Sidney Fine Arts Show October 14th, 15th and 16th.
You can see more about the show here

A  few details about the piece...
Jack O'Reilly is needle felted over a wire armature with wire
in his wings to give them shape.
He is 13" high and 13" form wing tip to wing tip...

His helmet was handmade by me from a synthetic leather with tiny metal grommets  and
his scarf is a piece of eco dyed silk I made as well ...

Jack is adhered to a part of a vintage toy globe on top of a vintage
wooden thread spool, complete with a tiny compass.
I have signed and dated the piece on the bottom...

One of the most special parts of the piece is a scaled down copy of a real telegram
sent to my Great Aunt Thora by my Great Uncle Leonard.
It was at the end of the war while he was still in France.
It reads "All o.k. Thank God it's over. Chin up. All my love."
It has been treated by a form of glue to stiffen and protect it and is adhered into a slot in the globe ...




Tuesday, March 17, 2015

From the archives...

May you always have...
Walls for the wind
A roof for the rain
Tea beside the fire
Laughter to cheer you
Those you love near you
And all your heart might desire
-Irish Blessing-


Monday, March 17, 2014

Top o' the mornin' to ye...a song for Monday

Well today is the day that half the world takes claim to their Irish heritage.
I am fortunate to make this claim honestly as my grandparents
are from the Emerald Isle and the land is a place close to my heart.
(Antrim Coastline)
(Dingle Peninsula)
As I traveled Ireland's lovely roads and green hills a few years back with
my dad and daughter, I became even more involved with
my love affair with The Motherland.
(Aran Islands)
So today I send a tribute out to the land, the music, the people,
and the cultural heritage of which travels far and wide
and leaves many trails behind.
(music shop, Killarney)
Yesterday I went to a fantastic live show at Cherry Point Vinyards
to see Ruth Moody and her band. If you've never seen her, have a look and listen.
She has the voice of an angel and the writings of a poet.
As a tribute to St Patricks Day, she did a rendition of this song.
So here is the original version for you now.
Happy St Patricks Day all!

Sunday, April 21, 2013

Guest post!

If you've ever thought of going to Ireland and renting a car,
here's my experiences as a guest blogger on Liam O'Connells
travel blog
Liam does a fantastic job in covering all the bases and if you
are or ever were thinking of going to Ireland, this
blog will surely tug you a wee bit closer!
 A great blog dedicated to travel tips, culture, places to see and so much insight
into experiencing this beautiful little country.
Enjoy!
Slainte!

 
 


Sunday, March 17, 2013

Bits and bobs of green...

Happy St Patrick's Day to you all!
It's a half sun half cloud day here on the coast
 and the spring is coming on with many shades of green.
The weather is typically March changing every five minutes but
it's this climate that I love, I can't complain.
Must be in my blood.
Speaking of green...
I thought today I would share some of my favorite green things...
Some pretty little pieces of Irish porcelain found in the thrift shop.
 I can't resist those sweet little shamrocks!...
 Another thrift store find was this travel book published in 1939...
 It's full of stories and pictures from a time long vanished.
The inside cover has a lovely vintage map to gaze upon and dream of another trip someday...
My favorite green velvet scarf and the one decent thing I ever knitted, a hat, with wool from Ireland...
A green Irish linen blouse...from the thrift store as well!
A few postcards sent home from the Motherland...
...this was attached to a sweater I bought on the Aran Islands...
Did you know that each family had their own stitch so that if a fisherman
drowned, they could identify him by the stitches on his sweater?
These are but a few of my favorite photos I took in Ireland.
( I've probably posted a few of these before so pardon my love of these times.)
The first is my dad's hand near his pint in a pub in Dingle.
One of those priceless nights we had on our travels...
One of the most beautiful places on earth, The lakes of Killarney...
 Galway at dawn on a Sunday morning...
 My daughter Aja and my dad strolling in the rain on the Aran Islands...
 The amazing Atrim coast of Northern Ireland
A card a friend sent to me once with an Irish blessing to pass on to you all...
...and what St Patrick's Day wouldn't be complete without a wee jig ...
Ladies and Gents...
The Pogues.  
 
If I should fall from grace with god
Where no doctor can relieve me
If I'm buried 'neath the sod
But the angels won't receive me

Let me go, boys
Let me go, boys
Let me go down in the mud
Where the rivers all run dry