Tag Archives: photography

Little I Things I Don’t Want To Forget

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We left Killarney and headed towards the coast and the Cliffs of Moher. It was Wednesday. Once again our GPS directed us on some of the smallest roads I had ever seen through rocky countryside that makes my country town feel like a veritable city. It felt most times as thought we were miles from civilisation and that Ireland was all but empty of human life.

Solid as a rock
The Cliffs taken from a fisherman’s vantage.
The stone from “The Half-Blood Prince?”

We arrived at the visitor’s center at Moher  around 11 A.M. and discovered that a boat tour of the cliffs was launching at three from the town of Doolin some twenty minutes down the road. Since we had the option of making our own way we decided to eat our lunch atop the cliffs and make our way to Doolin for the three hour wait.

The Village Of Doolin

 

I suppose while we saw many grand sights on the Emerald Isle it was the little things I will remember most, those things that made the trip truly unique: The smell of peat burning as we passed through villages in the countryside, the fact that pharmacies in Ireland are depicted by neon green crosses, the mirror at the hotel room in Galway that didn’t fog in the middle, the color of the buildings, the way the country roads all have a strip of the greenest grass growing down the center. It is the little memories that made the place stand out, that made it all so magical.

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Our Encounter With the Faeries of Ross Castle

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Ross Castle along the Lower Lake

                                                        Ross Castle along the Lower Lake

Please understand I write this post entirely tongue- in- cheek. I don’t believe in Faeries (somewhere in Neverland Tinkerbell just died). But while in Ireland, the unequivocal center of all faeridom, Amanda and I did have a very strange encounter on the early morning of October 7th as we made our way to Ross Castle.

The morning mist was just winding its way back into the primordial forests from which it had come and the road ahead was becoming more clear by the moment. We were about a mile from the castle on one of those quiet country roads we were becoming so use to driving in little Mii.

As we rounded one bend, the road became straight and visible for about a quarter of a mile and I sighted something in the road  ahead. At first I thought it to be a large black dog. But as we drove closer both Amanda and I could see that it was far to large to be any dog but still too small to be a horse. It looked at first like it was carrying something in its mouth but  as we moved closer (we had slowed down to about 10 MPH at this point) we saw that whatever it was, was not in the creature’s mouth but jutting from its forehead and the “whatever it was”, was big, maybe four or five feet in length.

“A unicorn?” I asked out loud.

Amanda chuckled and punched my arm but I was seriously nonplussed by the sight.

The lakes of Killarney do add a certain magic to the air.

The lakes of Killarney do add a certain magic to the air.

We were now within about 15 feet of the creature and it lifted its head from the ground. It was a six point buck. I had never seen its like. Its neck was ruffed with black fur as if it had just stepped out of winter somewhere. Its face and horns were darker than the rest of its body. Bracken was wreathed in and out of its antlers.Twisted into the natural fibers was a four-foot piece of rotting log. As the buck looked at us it supported the piece of wood like some giant spear pointing it directly at little Mii. Then it whacked the wood once more against the ground and leapt off into the bushes carrying the log with it in its antlers.

Amanda and I almost wept at the sight of this majestic creature so trapped and tortured by its burden but within a few seconds the creature had melted back into the forest mists from whence it had come.

Now I do not suppose this was some faery critter. But were I of a different persuasion and maybe a little more Irish I think I could be forgiven for thinking perhaps… just perhaps it was.

Morning Mists On an Irish country road

Morning Mists On an Irish country road

Skywatch Friday 10-31-14

Posted on by under Photography

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A storm is brewing! We can only run for cover. There is only one safe place!

Psalm 91:1-7King James Version (KJV)

He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.

2 I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in him will I trust.

3 Surely he shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler, and from the noisome pestilence.

4 He shall cover thee with his feathers, and under his wings shalt thou trust: his truth shall be thy shield and buckler.

5 Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night; nor for the arrow that flieth by day;

6 Nor for the pestilence that walketh in darkness; nor for the destruction that wasteth at noonday.

7 A thousand shall fall at thy side, and ten thousand at thy right hand; but it shall not come nigh thee.

Many times over the past week’s I have felt to remind my readership of these facts. Cling to them people they are all that is unshakeable!

A Touch Of Majesty

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While we truly enjoyed Blarney Castle, Amanda and I were glad to be shed of the traffic of Cork. I have to admit I get a little excitable in heavy traffic and Cork had no shortage of that. Add the whole left side of the road thing and forgetting which side of the car to look out of as I entered incoming traffic and  you can just imagine how our sense of inner peace was challenged.

Things got better, though, as we headed toward the Mangerton Mountains and the town of Killarney in Co Kerry.

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The word majestic is apropos’ here. I cannot suppose it is the size of the mountains or even the color. Yet there is no mistaking the otherworldly quality of the place that makes you feel you have entered the domain of kings or of the King. There again,was the sense of loneliness that became so familiar to us as we traveled the island. Yet, there was something else too as we drove into Killarney, a sense that somehow God was sharing with us some secret key to His own majesty. Many times as I travelled through Ireland I was struck by the truth that here in this place I was having a unique experience, one I could not have anywhere else in the wide-world.

The questions and truths of Psalm chapter eight seemed to echo through the landscape and somehow the terrain itself called back the answers.

Psalm 8

For the choir director: A psalm of David, to be accompanied by a stringed instrument.[a]

1 O Lord, our Lord, your majestic name fills the earth!
    Your glory is higher than the heavens.
2 You have taught children and infants
    to tell of your strength,
silencing your enemies
    and all who oppose you.

3 When I look at the night sky and see the work of your fingers—
    the moon and the stars you set in place—
4 what are mere mortals that you should think about them,
    human beings that you should care for them?
5 Yet you made them only a little lower than God
    and crowned them[e] with glory and honor.
6 You gave them charge of everything you made,
    putting all things under their authority—
7 the flocks and the herds
    and all the wild animals,
8 the birds in the sky, the fish in the sea,
    and everything that swims the ocean currents.

9 O Lord, our Lord, your majestic name fills the earth!

The Mangerton Mountains in Killarney National Forest as seen from our hotel window
Our ride into Killarney
Some walls are made to protect us.
Muckross House
The Mountains seen from the front lawn of Muckross House
The mountains seen from the front lawn of Muckross House
Amanda at Torc Waterfall
Amanda in the Magerton Mountains on the road to Moll’s Gap
Ladie’s View

A Photo A Week Challenge: Livestock

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This week’s challenge from Nancy is: LIVESTOCK.

Check out more livestock pictures at

http://nadiamerrillphotography.wordpress.com/2014/10/29/a-photo-a-week-challenge-livestock/

All I can say is that it is a good thing I went to Ireland recently. I may live in the country but I still spend more time behind a desk and in the office than I do around barnyards.

I guess the good Lord knew this opportunity would be coming so He chose to slow me down with a flock of sheep

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In the mountains of Connemara

This photograph brought this Psalm to mind…

Psalm 100

A psalm of thanksgiving.

1 Shout with joy to the Lord, all the earth!
2     Worship the Lord with gladness.
    Come before him, singing with joy.
3 Acknowledge that the Lord is God!
    He made us, and we are his.
    We are his people, the sheep of his pasture.
4 Enter his gates with thanksgiving;
    go into his courts with praise.
    Give thanks to him and praise his name.
5 For the Lord is good.
    His unfailing love continues forever,
    and his faithfulness continues to each generation.

Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge: Shoes and Feet

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cees-fun-foto

This week’s Fun Fotos are all about shoes and feet

See Cee’s Feet and other’s shoes at

http://ceenphotography.com/2014/10/28/cees-fun-foto-challenge-bare-feet-andor-shoes/

Here are  mine!

My feet over Cork.

                                                                                      My feet over Cork.

My feet at Longwood Gardens

                                                                               My feet at Longwood Gardens

My feet in the Netherlands

                                                                           My feet in the Netherlands

The Bussers Missed the Blarney Stone

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We left The River Lee behind sometime shortly after sunrise on the fourth day and headed up through the busy winding streets of Cork towards Blarney Castle. The tour bus was pulling into the castle lot  just ahead of us making Amanda and me groan a bit as we looked at the long lines we would have to stand in just to get onto the grounds. We groaned, that is, until we heard the tour guide tell the bussers that they had  just one hour on the grounds before the bus pulled out. It was not the first nor the last time I was glad to be on a self-guided tour. Amanda and I may not have seen as many hot spots on this trip to Ireland as the bussers did, but what we did see we actually had time to process.

The road out of Cork. Towards Blarney
Blarney Castle was built some 600 years ago by Cormac MacCarthy one of the great Munster Chieftains
I don’t care how fast you walk, you cannot see the grounds of Blarney Castle in an hour. It takes almost that to climb up and down the ruin never mind the time it takes to spin around the beautiful grounds.
A view from below the poison garden
Poison Gardens were a common part of many medieval castles.
Because we could spend four or five hours at Blarney we were able to inspect the caves as well as the gardens. Here is Amanda at the entrance to the Badger’s cave, an ancient escape route out of Blarney Castle. The way is sealed though, you may not pass.
Of course if you are going to Blarney Castle you have to at least see the Blarney stone. You may not feel like kissing the thing but just seeing it launches you into the story of the Blarney Witch
We took some time in the rock close, the domain of the Blarney Witch.
The Witch’s Stone is said to be the ancient cage in which the Blarney Witch was trapped.
The falls in the rock close
The falls leading to the Witch’s Kitchen
Amanda walks the wishing steps.
A bird’s eye view from the top of Blarney Castle
A walk through the meadow gardens brings you to the foot of Blarney House the current home of the Lord Colthurst

 

We spent four hours at Blarney and could still go back to see more. All in all we felt bad for the people on the bus tour. They didn’t so much kiss the Blarney stone but miss the Blarney stone and so much more. My sister commented on the fate of the bussers when we were explaining it to her. She told us in Europe they call it seeing the world as an American, which means you go to a place, step out of the vehicle, snap a picture, get back in the vehicle, drive away and then tell the world you’ve seen it.”

I have been thinking this is how I often do life and maybe just maybe that has to change.

 

From Cashel To Cork

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The Rock Of Cashel

“According to local mythology, the Rock of Cashel originated in the Devil’s Bit, a mountain 20 miles (30 km) north of Cashel when St. Patrick banished Satan from a cave, resulting in the Rock’s landing in Cashel.  Cashel is reputed to be the site of the conversion of the King of Munster by St. Patrick in the 5th century.

The Rock of Cashel was the traditional seat of the kings of Munster for several hundred years prior to the Norman invasion. In 1101, the King of Munster, Muirchertach Ua Briain, donated his fortress on the Rock to the Church. The picturesque complex has a character of its own and is one of the most remarkable collections of Celtic art and medieval architecture to be found anywhere in Europe.[2] Few remnants of the early structures survive; the majority of buildings on the current site date from the 12th and 13th centuries.”  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rock_of_Cashel

A sense of abandonment fills the air at Cashel. As I wandered the crumbling remains of this ancient worship center my heart was stirred with a sense of sadness at what had been lost to war and apostasy.

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Many times in Ireland I was struck by a sense of loneliness that seemed almost to breathe out of  the landscape as though something that once was there had left and the land itself longs for its return. Nowhere was this greater than in Cashel. Here stands a reminder that the essence of the Divine can be easily lost if not constantly attended.

Ancient Monastery seen from the Rock Of Cashel near Tipperary

Ancient Monastery seen from the Rock Of Cashel near Tipperary

After visiting the ruins of the medieval church at Cashel Amanda and I made our way along the winding country roads to the City of Cork. Our hotel in Cork lay across the River Lee and gave us some stunning views of the city.

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Amanda hated the glass walls and elevators in the ultra modern River Lee Hotel. I think she felt like she was going to fall right out of the building. But in light of what the Spirit had brought to mind in Cashel, I took some time for an afternoon devotion looking out over the city  from this chair.

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It turned out that while we were taking a bit more circuitous route through the country than the bus tours we were tracking with them and meeting up with them at the hotels. It was kind of neat to see the same people at every hotel. We made friends with a couple of retired school teachers and made a practice of checking in with them almost everyday. If your reading Mrs. Schumaker, “Hi there!”

We learned very quickly though that because we were tracking with two bus tours and since those same tours had set reservations with the hotel restaurants while we did not, it behooved us greatly to get into our hotels early to make dinner reservations before the general public could book up the seats. Some of the other self-drivers never seemed to learn that lesson and would walk into restaurants in the evening even after twelve days and be appalled that they could not get seats in the hotel bistros.