My wife and I walk the dogs nearly every day. We have two routes … the one shown here is perhaps less photogenic, as it doesn’t have views of the Lough Crew Hills, but never mind.
Good friends we had, and good friends we've lost/Along the way
-
Recent Posts
- WALLS (for Sean, on his 27th birthday)
- Angels
- Time Stands Still
- The Wolf
- Lucky in Love
- For Sean, on His 26th Birthday
- Gatineau 2017: Editors Canada conference
- All Souls’ Day
- Thoughts on Martin McGuinness
- Make Time Good
- Words
- Broken Wing
- Wild Geese and vultures
- Jimmy’s Hall
- The Mystery
- Open the Door
- One More
- To Sean, on his 25th birthday
- To Sean: Six Years On
- Testament
About …
Ballinteer bereavement Bob Dylan Bob Marley Cavan Dante Gabriel Rossetti death diary dogs dry-stone walls Dublin duelling emigration England Ernie O'Malley family life First World War Flann O'Brien football Gaelic football God Heineken Cup IRA Ireland Irish Americans Irish history Irish music Irish parliament Irish War of Independence J. L. Austin James Joyce Jonathan Swift Leinster life local history loss Lough Ramor love Luke Kelly Michael Hartnett Munster Munterconnaught nationalism new songs Paloma Faith Patrick MacGill poetry pop music Provisional IRA reggae republicanism rock music rugby rural life SADS science Sean O'Brien Sinn Féin snow soccer song songs songwriting stalkers The Pogues The Red Horizon this blog Tipperary Ulster Virginia W. B. Yeats waterfall Windy Arbour World Cup writingLinks
Archives
- July 2018
- May 2018
- February 2018
- July 2017
- June 2017
- April 2017
- March 2017
- February 2017
- January 2017
- December 2016
- November 2016
- October 2016
- August 2016
- July 2016
- April 2016
- March 2016
- October 2015
- June 2015
- May 2015
- March 2015
- February 2015
- January 2015
- November 2014
- October 2014
- September 2014
- August 2014
- July 2014
- June 2014
- May 2014
- April 2014
- March 2014
- February 2014
- January 2014
- December 2013
- November 2013
- October 2013
- September 2013
- August 2013
- July 2013
- June 2013
- May 2013
- April 2013
- March 2013
- February 2013
- January 2013
- December 2012
- November 2012
- October 2012
- September 2012
- August 2012
- July 2012
- June 2012
- May 2012
- April 2012
- March 2012
- February 2012
- January 2012
- December 2011
- November 2011
- October 2011
- September 2011
- August 2011
- July 2011
- June 2011
- May 2011
- April 2011
- March 2011
- February 2011
- January 2011
- December 2010
- November 2010
- October 2010
- September 2010
- August 2010
- July 2010
- June 2010
- May 2010
Blog Stats
- 175,935 hits
The road to God knows where … Brendan O'Brien · Good friends we had and good friends we've lost/Along the way
The road to God knows where ... Brendan O'Brien 
It was a beautiful day here last Sunday, Cymbeline … we don’t get enough of them.
The lane the horses galloped down is at right angles to the one shown here, but pretty similar. Plenty of horses traverse this one too.
Yes, it’s fabulous, Cymbeline. I have a lot of happy memories of playing football on our lawn with all the local kinds till 10 or later … and of my own childhood too, of course, when I seemed to be playing football, cycling to the lake or swimming in the lake all summer.
But some summers we get hardly any good, sunny weather.
Mmmmm, some nice trees. Probably too many. Spoil the view.
hmb, a conveniently located spurtle factory would put that right.
I’ll ring the cross-border cooperation people and ask for some money.
The Emerald Isle dons it’s rich and varied summer garb, so many hues of green. Contentment and tranquility clothes the land that is known for episodes that were anything but. Such is life, ambiguous, never quite what it appears.
Hello Richard. Yes, that’s true. I think I mentioned before that the population of my area fell drastically from the 1840s onwards … hence there are many old abandoned houses like the one in the slideshow.
Brendano I always have similar thoughts when I vist Verdun or other battles scenes of worldwar one. Where there wasn’t a living tree standing, and blood and limbs flew violently, the traquil forest is restablished and the murderous past is totally concealed.
Cymbeline, it’s strange to think of all the past generations, of whose lives we really know so little.
Future generations will know a lot more about our lives, I suppose, if they want to.
The people alive now seem to think of themselves as the culmination of humanity, and very different to those in the old times, but of course this isn’t the case.
Yes, I agree, Cymbeline. I didn’t mean a culmination in the sense of the future being written. I think some of us think we’re the bee’s knees and the past is kind of old, but I suppose we’re just one generation, and not ‘special’.
I wonder if the people of every time thought they were special, and a culmination for the moment? Perhaps in the ‘civilized’ world, but not elsewhere, I imagine.
Cymbeline, maybe but not where I have gone. I wandered all around the Verdun forests and near the famous voie sacré and fort de Douaument. Really I couldn’t see any evidence of war. I also went through Northern France looking at the battle fields,(having just read the book by shirley williams mother) again nothing. No doubt to a specialst there are craters and signs, but really nature has done a good recovery job.
Verdun is a sleepy little town. I stopped off there often on the way to Luxembourg. The countryside is pleasant rolling wooded hills without being spectacular. What is stupendous is the osserary and the thousand upon thousnd of white crosses. It is the only place that gives you a true feeling of the mass killing that was WW1. Worth the journey.
NIce pix.
Is there a modern farmhouse replacing the wallsteads? Or is this acompletely abandoned place?
Tnanks, Isobel. Completely abandoned. The population of my area fell from something like 4,000 to around 500 (don’t have figures to hand, and about to dash out).