One of the first stops on my journey, actually the first one.
WB Yeats grave. I was never a poem ‘fan’ and did not know much about Yeats. First, listening about him from Joe was fascinating. His recitation in the Irish accent was priceless. No one is sure if the bones in the grave are actually his, they were moved here, as per his wish to be buried beneath the shadow of Benbulben. I doubt anyone who makes the pilgrimage here really cares about the bones, his spirit is definitely here. It’s addicting and once you start reading some of the poetry, it captivates you….
Under bare Ben Bulben’s head
In Drumcliff churchyard Yeats is laid.
An ancestor was rector there
Long years ago, a church stands near,
By the road an ancient cross.
No marble, no conventional phrase;
On limestone quarried near the spot
By his command these words are cut:
Cast a cold eye
On life, on death.
Horseman, pass by!
W.B Yeats
Faery trees, rambling through the fields in the distance, keeping watch….
Looking up at the mountain from below…as Joe said, ‘I bet if this was in America, someone would carve some famous face in that!’
Joe McGowen, looking pencively at the mountain…just after telling me that when the Whin’s are blooming, kissing is allowed’. Fortunately, in Ireland, the Whin is ALWAYS blooming somewhere!
An amazing view, even on a rainy day taken through the windshield. Note to self, would like to see it on a sunny day!!
Graffiti on ruins of a convent/school house, I doubt the children of years past did that….
Even the view from the lunch table was lovely….
‘Please, please let me in for a wee bowl of chow’
At the land Joe leases to a sheep farmer, what is that off in the distant water, but dolfins…in Ireland, in April….good luck!
Sheep dotting the hillside, rain in the distance…
Just like the sheep dotting the fields, there are old tubs used to collect rainwater for the sheep! That’s Joe again.
This was Jimmy’s house (at least that is what I think Joe said). Striking contrast of the simple home in the foreground and the grandeur of Lissidell Castle in the distance.
A monument dedicated to the stillborns and infants, that were never baptized and buried in shame by distraught parents. A Faery tree keeping watch…. “Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand, For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.” ― W.B. Yeats
Following Joe to ‘Mass Rock’
A very serene place, so quiet and covered with a canopy of trees. Hidden from prying eyes. A place to reflect and pray.
Constance Markievicz as told by Joe McGowan. An amazing story about an amazing woman that stepped way out of her comfort zone to help those in need. The monument in Sligo was championed by Joe. Every part of it from the shape, and imagery makes a statement. She, always ready for battle, with her side arm and her flowered hat….. A childhood friend of Yeats, he penned a poem about her and her sister Eva…… The light of evening, Lissadell, Great windows open to the south, Two girls in silk kimonos, both Beautiful, one a gazelle. But a raving autumn shears Blossom from the summer’s wreath; The older is condemned to death, Pardoned, drags out lonely years Conspiring amoung the ignorant I know not what the younger dreams – Some vague Utopia – and she seems, When withered old and skeleton-gaunt, An image of such politics. Many a time I think to seek One or the other out and speak Of that old Georgian mansion, mix pictures of the mind, recall That table and the talk of youth, Two girls in silk kimonos, both Beautiful, one a gazelle. WB Yeats
Carromore Megalithic Cemetery annd passage tombs.
I made it, after quite a few stops to the top of Knocknerea. Another passage tomb (cairn) where supposedly Queen Maeve (Irish mythology says) was entombed. It is bad luck to remove a stone from a cairn and good luck to carry one to it and leave it.
The view at the top of the cairn, 360 degrees of magic……………….
Well worth the trip to the top, even though the sign said ‘do not climb’!
Michael Quirke, wood carver and word weaver. Here he is actually saying ‘blah blah blah, lets just look like I’m saying something amazing’!
Questionable sign…….the car should be vertical, you’ll see…..
This is at the end of the road!!
Leo took me to the Belleek Pottery tour. All is hand made and must be perfect prior to being put out for sale. Here is an interesting job. He hand makes the flowers on the pottery, but he licks each piece to stick the petals together……
Faery tree, outside a cemetery, always watching…..
The old cemetery has very old stones and relatively new ones. This one, most likely pagan has multiple faces. Photographed from different angles. There are coins left on it to honor it.
This view actually looks like it is sticking it’s tongue out!
Sheep with a view………………….
PLEASE can I have him!!
‘no’.
Ireland’s version of the ‘pacific coast highway’…the Wild Atlantic Way. Just lovely, with very scarey roads..thanks Leo for the excellent driving!
A view from the ‘LondonDerry’ wall.
So, there was a day that it was raining in Sligo. Leo looked at the weather map and found the sun in Belfast….off we go to the Giants Causway!
It was a lovely day with gorgeous views of the incredible Causway and ocean.
Leo and me.
‘lost at sea, lost at sea or in the evening tide. We loved you, we miss you with God may you abide’
Some of Leo’s 70 cows.
One of Leo’s new calves. The cow jumped over the moon—supposedly, the cow that jumped over the moon was looking for her calf and as she was jumping her milk was spraying and created the ‘Milky Way’ as told by Leo!
This to me is an incredible picture of the large dolman on Leo’s land. Two portal stones taking the shape of the mountain in the distance.
Fossil Beach, as it is called, perfect impressions in the stones of creatures 50,000 years old.
“Let us go forth, the tellers of tales, and seize whatever prey the heart long for, and have no fear. Everything exists, everything is true, and the earth is only a little dust under our feet.” ― W.B. Yeats
The gate to enter the Famind Graveyard.
You are entering a long abandoned Famine Graveyard. Pathway of Death, so named because unnumbered thousands perished following the grim passage from rotting fields to odious workhouse to ignominous burial.
The field where so many are buried, unmarked for so long. Now a Faery tree monument marks the field.
Children’s Graveyard
‘The dead are not far from us….they cling in some strange way to what is most still and deep within us’ WB Yeats
Leo forced into hard labor at the plouging event. By forced I mean ‘no bother’!!
To the naked eye this looks like a tree with litter all over it. Rag Trees is what they are called….why? Usually the rags are placed there by people who believe that if a piece of clothing from someone who is ill, or has a problem of any kind, is hung from the tree the problem or illness will disappear as the rag rots away. Sometimes the rag represents a wish or aspiration which will come to pass as the rag rots.
The four children (old now) that were cursed by their evil stepmother after the spell was broken.
Kegs of Holy Water!!
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