Fog
By Carl Sandburg
The fog comes
on little cat feet.
It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.
Sandburg's poem is very appropriate for here, today. I woke to fog and it has "sat" pretty much all day. And at 6:00 p.m. it is still sitting, sitting. Richard is down with one of his horrible chest colds. Perhaps he got chilled when we went walking along Woodstown Strand on Thursday afternoon.
The strand is a beautiful, Oregon-like stretch of beach but the wind was quite cold by the time we went down there at 4:00 p.m. And even an order of fish & chips afterward didn't quite thaw us out. Richard has stuck close to home yesterday and today and doesn't plan on leaving the house tomorrow either. Good plan.
Last Sunday there were no church services in Waterford so, as it was a beautiful day, we decided on the spur of the moment to drive over to Wicklow and spend the night at a dog-friendly hotel called Brooklodge. We were going to visit a couple of stately homes as well as a garden, Mount Usher, but by the time I had driven (yes, I DROVE) over to Mount Usher, it was already noon. We have to learn to allow for windy roads that take twice as long as the distance would indicate.
But Mount Usher was beautiful. When we first arrived, we went in for lunch at the Avoca Cafe, which was packed. It started to drizzle while we were eating lunch but that actually worked in our favor as most people decided they wouldn't actually tour the gardens. We had them virtually to ourselves. So many different varieties of trees!
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| Sign in the Avoca Cafe. The garden developers certainly took that to heart! |
Spring is only just arriving in the garden. There were loads of daffodils as you can see, crocuses, early bluebells. And there were a few azaleas blooming, camellias and even rhododendrons. But the people at the information desk said that the garden is at its Spring best in April and May. So we will be back!
The road from Mount Usher to Brooklodge was another one of those "hold on to the door handle Richard" kind of rides. An hour's worth of twists and turns and almost dead stops as another car aimed towards us. Richard grew ominously more and more silent but we made it there safely. Oh, did I mention Mitzi was in the back seat? She, too, was very, very quiet. In fact, if dogs have a sixth sense, I think she was probably praying her little doggie heart out.
Brooklodge was beautiful! They couldn't have been more welcoming and the hotel was indeed very dog friendly. In fact there are doggie hosts--two lovely, slightly overweight, golden retrievers. Dog rooms are set aside so those who are allergic to dog hair need not fear. Mitzi was a bit overwhelmed but grew more comfortable as we walked around the hotel property and she realized that we would all be in the room together. We arrived early enough that I was able to go exploring a cemetery that was actually just off the 10th tee! Managed to photograph all of the legible headstones Sunday evening and the rest Monday morning. When I asked the receptionist about the cemetery, she called an older lady over who told me that there was another, older, cemetery just up the road. So I did that one as well. Many headstones from the 1700s and 1800s.
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| There is a chapel at the hotel for weddings |
We stayed at the hotel until check-out time, which was noon. So nice to relax!! Especially as we had the long drive home--only 124 kms but, again, Irish roads. We stopped at Arklow and had lunch at Darcy McGee's Pub. When I saw the sign, I insisted we have lunch there with the Montreal/Canadian connection with McGee. My brother-in-law, Neill Dooley, went to Darcy McGee High School and of course McGee was a famous Irish Canadian patriot and Father of Confederation. The pub is one of a change and the food was quite good.
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| Sts. Mary & Peter Church, Arklow |
A fierce battle was fought in Arklow during the 1798 Rebellion. Over 1,000 rebels killed to losses on the British side of only about 100. There are so many reminders throughout Ireland of its sad history of poverty and oppression. This past Thursday, while Richard was at home with the beginnings of a cold, I drove down a worn farmer's track to a very old cemetery in Ballygunner, about 15 minutes from where we live in Dunmore. The cemetery is no longer used but there were about 30 headstones I was able to decipher. I had to pull ivy and thorns off many of the stones and ended up with stinging nettle rash on my right hand. The earliest headstones were from 1705 and there were also small pillars in the cemetery, unmarked, that I learned later signify famine graves. It was so quiet in that graveyard. I didn't feel frightened at all but I did feel quite introspective, thinking of whole families that were wiped out of the area during the Famine by death or immigration.
But to end this blog on an "up" note, I received this photo from daughter Laurie, showing that Quinn received her birthday package from Ireland. Her actual birthday is St. Patrick's Day so of course I included some appropriate wear:
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