Cuillard, Keadue, Co Roscommon, is my home place. I see it as my spiritual home. It’s the place I go to get a balm of peace in nature that calms my racing mind.
Since our two sons were born in 1995 and 1999, we have holidayed here for two or three months every summer.
For the boys, adventures were always very simple. One day at the end of our holidays, it was lashing rain from a very grey sky. I was trying to tidy the house before returning to Dublin. I told Kevin and Oisín to put on their wellies and raincoats and go for a long walk down the lane.
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Over an hour later they returned covered in muck from head to toe. All I could see was their excited eyes. “We had the time of our lives,” Kevin announced, not caring about being mud soaked. “We jumped in every puddle on the lane,” Oisín said almost choking with excitement. They stripped in the porch and went straight for a bath. In the bath I could hear them discussing which puddles were the best. The puddles were named by the owner of the land along the lane. Tommy Leydon’s, Mikey’s, Frank Gaffney’s and Gerry’s puddles were all evaluated. The agreed consensus was that Mikey’s puddles were by far the best for splashability.
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One of our traditions in the month of May was to go and see the bluebells in Derreen Woods near Boyle. This wood always gave us the wow factor, with its long slender beech trees covered in soft green moss guarding the carpet of bluebells. The broken light through the beech leaves seemed to be filtered just enough to have the bluebells looking their absolute best.
My husband Micheál was a very good photographer. He captured the light on the bluebells at many angles increasing or decreasing the intensity of the blue depending on the light through the trees.
As the boys grew into their late teens, viewing the bluebells in Derreen Woods was not high on their priorities but the promise of lunch afterwards meant our tradition was unbroken.
With the arrival of the boys’ 20s, suggesting days out was not something I did, letting the decision come from them. This ensured a complaint-free day out.
To my joy, every May both Kevin and Oisín demand to know, “When are we going to see the bluebells?”
The Words of Love project started one morning with a chat in the foyer of the Fighting Words centre in Dublin. Two Fighting Words mentors were talking about the world needing a little more love as they waited for the children to arrive for their workshop. This germ of an idea was developed and writers of all ages were approached to share their thoughts and experiences of love in all its forms; the result was a small, beautiful collection launched on April 14th. Here are a few pieces by participants from the Silverthread writing group who responded to the challenge of capturing the essence of love in words. You can find out more about Words of Love and read more pieces from the project on the Fighting Words website.
