Yes, it was green. Like a giant patchwork quilt stretching out beneath us as I peered through the jet’s open shades. Moments later there were the high hills in the distance, framed by the airport terminal’s great picture windows. Even through sleepy eyes, a queasy stomach and a massive time change, Ireland was breathtakingly green.
It seemed forever and a day, but before we knew it we were on the road, albeit driving on the pavement’s left side, sitting in the right-sided driver’s seat. Feeling a bit disjointed on this Irish journey, we were just outside of Dublin. Getting more lost by the minute we were, but who cared? We were, after all, lost … in Ireland.
A truck of locals enroute to help neighbors with their leaking roof took the time to stop by us as we pulled off onto an available country road. I looked out my window to our left and there appeared a gate to who-knows-where. My imagination ran limitless to the wondrous grounds beyond it which ran a deep green. From the truck came one of three welcoming gentlemen who extended kindness to us and gave these weary travelers directions to Cork in such charming brogue that made this writer feel Celtic affection and deep gratitude.
So off we were toward County Cork albeit the lengthy route. Sheep-dotted hillsides were all around us even as we departed the city limits. Varying shades of green were boundaried by miles of piled stone fences meticulously built as far as the eye could see. Several hours passed as did “O’Reilly” trucking vehicles and wee villages. Rain abruptly appeared out of nowhere and dissipated with the rapidly shifting skies. In the misty distance, randomly appearing towers and memorials stood dreamlike, as remnants of an age of castles.
The driving wore on as my husband’s endurance was wearing out. He began to doze. My massageful hands on his neck and shoulder succeeded in keeping him alert for a time, but he was fading fast.
Suddenly and miraculously there appeared an exit to our right. In search of a place to park and take a short nap, our vehicle dependably carried its passengers as if it were being led and seemed to know the way.
The highway transformed into a small sleepy village road from another time. A few humble houses sat tucked away along the roadside as if in an invitation to the empty parking area found just across the way. It was a welcoming sight as we pulled into the spot that seemed to be awaiting us. We had no idea of where we had arrived to but to me that was ok. We were, after all, in Ireland and yes… it was green.
My eyes drifted closed as I lay back in the car. My husband was already in dreamland. All was still. My pseudo rest however, did not last. My heart was a bit preoccupied. Something was calling to me and I had to find out what it was. Surely Dick could have an undisturbed nap while I explored. My door closing did not bother him a bit. I stood up and slowly stretched before walking a wee distance down to the other end of the parking area where the greenery thickened.
At once I was breathless at what appeared. Was I seeing a misty vision? I had heard there “were castles everywhere” in Ireland. Here I was, indeed closest to the first castle remains I had ever discovered in that fair land. It was enchanting. Not a soul seemed to be around yet I sensed someone was watching me. Still, I felt very safe, like I was meant to be there.
A weathered, tall stone tower stood like a sentinel with a cottage-like structure humbly attached from so very long ago. It was set way back from the road with many old-looking, friendly trees and ancient rock fencing all the way around, as if guarding it. Amazed and in wonderment, I stood very still and gazed upon it, feeling like I had its permission to do so. The grass on the grounds was oh so very anciently green.
A peaceful serenity greeted me as I discovered a place seemed to be lost in time yet so well preserved and intended for this very moment. And then I became aware that other gentle voices were beckoning me. I noticed an ancient cemetery off to the left of this scene.
I entered into a narrow pathway close to the stone fence that defined the castle yard and led to the cemetery. I quietly approached and had a sense that I was standing on holy ground. It was history’s ground, a place of stories lived and told. Here was an honored location where one could almost hear the rocks and stones cry out “Life! Life! These lived!” Only a very thin membrane existed between time and eternity, here. I stood silent, just being, and studying, and listening. Yes, the ground around and the hills in the distance were a deep, everlasting green.
A wee distance down the village road was a humble church, Corcoran’s neighborhood pub restaurant and a local family store. Cows fed in front yards. Cottage homes were meticulous and simple. And yes, their yards were green, the color of life.
I felt like I could have kept walking down that road forever. My camera was busy at work. My heart hoped to catch and preserve the feeling of the atmosphere in each photo. There was rustic charm and welcome even though I saw no other people around. It was a place of rest indeed.
I ambled back, in what felt like slow motion, to our quiet vehicle where my napping husband was awakening. I was strangely rested and renewed. To this day I have no idea what the name of this quiet little village was, this treasure fair, somewhere in Ireland. I am however so very grateful that it appeared seemingly out of nowhere for our refreshment and then sent us on our way.
As we drove from our parking spot, I shared with my love my discoveries of that hour, never wanting to forget my singular journey into wonder. It was Ireland’s simple, everlasting gift to me.
Back on the main road, we made our way toward Cork and Blarney. I remained transfixed by what lay all around us in the countryside as we passed. The scenery spoke to us. There we were in a distant land on a distant journey that seemed timeless. What did it matter where we were or how long it would take to reach our destination? We were, after all, in Ireland. And yes, it was indeed…green.
