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Kansas City Irish Festivals, Music, Pubs, & Events by an Artist in Ireland

A hazy sunny day and another whole heap of silence. Until the dog starts barking at the sheep and I start shouting at the dog.

The sheep have been moved in closer another field. They are now in the roughest field, the one where Dog-dog was roaming mischiveously a couple of days ago.

Decide to walk earlier than recent days in case the day gets consumed by the final stages of packing. The van is due after 11pm when it will be loaded in time for a very early getaway in the morning to make the storage facility in Dublin at 11am.

So we walk. The dog and I agree on our direction. Out the gap. Today’s decision is greeted by 3 meadow pipits.

At the turn something is on the ground dumped in the bushes. Something wrapped in black plastic and rotting, with flies all over it. It looks like meat. I pull the dog away. The package is the size of a human head.

Walking up through the gap we see half a dozen Mohicans on the grassy knoll above us. I count 3 plastic bags in the purple moor grass. I suspect that number is much lower than it might have been in the era of the plastic bag. From the gap itself an old suitcase has been thrown off a long time ago. It lies open in the long grass below. It is full of shoes.

Further on a few metres there is fresh rubbish dumped at the side of the road. I wish somebody would dump cut grass on it, especially on the pink plastic.

Half a mile on I choose a track into the bog that I think will be dry enough for sandals. Because this is where we walked on the day we were to find out the roof would not be getting fixed.

There are 3 fords for us to cross. In the sun the dog loves splashing through the streams while I step on the stones off leash. A distant figure is about 100 metres from his tractor. I think he is cutting turf.

Looking back we wait for the sun to reappear from behind a cloud. For a photo. It brings back so many memories of childhood holidays where my siblings and I waited for the contrast of sunshine.

Turn right onto the former railtrack. A red car door is upright in the grass like a strange but brilliant bog plant. We carry on to the raised bank. It is real grass. Ordinary grass, not the stuff of the bog below. Dog-dog loves it and runs along backwards and forwards. Looking at the bog there is evidence of hundreds of trees. In the light breeze and warm sun this walk along a raised straight bank of soft grass is exhilarating. I don’t know why but it reminds me of walking in the forum in the heat of Rome. Straight walks are so rare.

Views all around as we are in the middle of a wide plateau between 2 mountains. The sun haze has long gone, with everywhere now being under a sky of blue and large fluffy white clouds.

There is colour everywhere. Dots of yellow on long thin stalks, and other flowers of purple and pink in among the auburn grasses and moss of the surrounding bog. A couple of fields of green like cloths lain on a mountain. Hills of orange and mauve, and mountains of blue. A skylark rises up to provide the soundtrack.

See a rusted red car growing out of a distant hill. From a tiny green island on top of an orange hill 2 sheep look down on it. I wonder if rather than being dumped someone drove it there, then stopped just to look, and never saw a reason to ever move again.

When the railtrack is waterlogged we rejoin the boreen. As I am watching the giant Chinese shadow theatre that takes place on the mountains from the small clouds overhead, I hear a noise caused by something moving. Something much bigger than a bird. It is coming from just below us on the railtrack. Good lord!

Just 20 feet away, and looking straight at me, stands a stag in all its antlered magnificence. The dog senses something but can’t see as her view is obscured by bracken. The stag runs away out of sight quickly. We walk on.

We come to an old railway bridge over a stream. A deserted farmhouse comes into view. Walking on we see that there is a new house beside it. On the other side of the stream. The stream is 12 foot wide. I walk across the 6 large flat stepping stones. Dog-dog wades. Like the other fords this one has a bed of cobbled stone. Designed more for tractors than small dogs her paws slip into the gaps.

We walk on past the house. To the view. It is green. While the bog continues on to the mountains over 20 miles away, we can see the edge of the bog towards the village. This is the way to come to avoid cycling on the main road. Quite a detour in distance terms. Quite a detour in any terms.

Look, just look, I say to the dog. In my head I had already taken some of my friends on walks out here. That’ll teach me to do things in my head.

I put the dog on the leash briefly in case we suddenly see the stag again. To protect her paws we step together across the stones this time. Challenging with a dog on a leash. And risky in sandals.

At the point where we can rejoin the railway track there is a big pool. I walk around into long grass where larvae and adult insects await my sandals. Dog-dog shocks me and leaps 6 feet over the pool. It is the biggest leap she has ever done.

2 walkers come from the direction of the big mountain. We meet where the railway track crosses the boreen. Dog-dog barks at them. I shout back that she’s fine, adding that she’s not used to seeing people. I see the concern on their faces as the dog goes to greet them.

-If you see her teeth it’s a smile.

The walkers relax.

-They’re people Dog-dog, like animals but bigger.

They all make friends very quickly and for life.

I tell them of the stag. They tell me of 3 they saw shot in the nearby National Park being carted off in a pickup truck. I persuade the dog to come with me as we head homewards. The walking couple turn onto the former railtrack and head the opposite direction that we had gone.

After the fords I put the dog back on the leash in case any sheep have come down from the hill. In the gap a meadow pipit makes the sound you’d expect it to make, and it’s not the word “meadow”.

As the sea comes back into view see that the world this side of the mountains has stayed the whole time in that sun haze. The far island is barely visible.

We have walked 4 miles. As we reach the turn at the bushes, the turn for our cottage, we meet our first car. She is driving too fast. Behind her a hooded crow is out walking on the bog, and beyond it a flock of 30 birds seems to know where it’s flying.

Walking on our driveway we are escorted by a Great Tit skipping between the conifers. Just like on our very first morning we see half a dozen peacock butterflies. They are on the heather and grasses beside us, and on the stones beneath our feet. They are a spectacular sight, an extravagant arrangement of intense deep orange with the purple and blue eyes on their wings like peacock feathers. As we reach the cottage the sheep seem solemn.

Make tea and share the last of the rashers with the dog. They are the best rashers I have ever eaten. We fight over the rinds.

The sheep are just 50 feet from the cottage. Dog-dog growls.

There are 2 tractors on the bog road. There is no way they can pass each other. A face off. They chat. Ah, a sheep is loose on the bog. I box up my plates and my cutlery.

I am looking at 10 very old paintings. They’re on panels, and I can’t remember where they go.

The blue sky outside is now all cloud and turning grey. It is 4pm when I realise that the day is Friday and not Saturday. But it is still the day that the van is coming.

In case I forget in the morning I go out to read the electricity meter. A sheep near me sneezes. A glint catches my eye. It is from the ferry.

Back on the bog road I see a traffic jam. 2 cars crawl behind a small tractor and trailer. As the lights start to get turned on in the village the islands no longer have any features being just pale blue shapes on a featureless sea.

Use last slice of cheese along with last few slices of ham and add them to the last of the pasta for a nice warm bowl of traditional gloop. Add pepper to taste. Share with dog.

Before it is dark I walk outside and pick up the stepping stone made several years ago by my son.

The van arrives after 10pm. Smaller than the van that brought me here it takes more time to fit things in. Fearful of being left behind the dog keeps jumping in the back, even when there is no room, until finally she is curled up on the bumper. Most stuff is loaded by 2am.

With the dog out of the house anyway I light a big fire. Afraid of a gust of wind from the mountain slamming a door into the dog I invite her into the cab where I cover her up and close the door.

For the first time since moving to the cottage I do not go to bed.

When it is still dark I slide in on top the biggest canvases, a mixture of finished paintings, unprimed canvases, and all stages in between. They are the second last things to be loaded.

To get the dog’s bed in I have to remove several boxes and take it apart.

Over the last pot of tea I sweep everywhere, and read the electricity meter for the final time.

The van is ready. The driver is ready. The dog is ready. A wagtail is on the roof of the porch. I stand on the grass taking the views of the islands and the mountains for granted, and I go back inside for one more lookover.

Bang my head as I leave the bathroom.

I climb into the van beside my dog, and I leave the cottage. The van bends slowly past the sheep and the conifers, and out onto the bog road. We turn right at the bushes.

THE END

Read the Previous Day at the cottage
List of all the Days at the Cottage

More from The Cottage:
   • Day 1 at The Cottage
   • Photos of The Cottage
   • 12 Photos of Scenery Around The Cottage
   • 12 Photos not all Mountains and Islands

This entry was posted on Friday, October 3rd, 2008 at 9:42 am and is filed under 1-eolai, Ireland, The Cottage. You can follow responses via my RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.