I was sitting in the self same spot in the self same field as in August twelve months ago. Looking around me and contemplating. The white horse still climbs the hill as his piebald mate grazes at the bottom. The sea is mesmerising, shimmering as the sun reflects in hundreds of mermaid mirrors as they preen themselves for some excitement to come, maybe the dolphins are on the way.
The same flowers, I suppose the same as those that have bloomed here for thousands of years, no pesticides to put them down. The harvestman struggles to get his long legs over the tall grass but the little beetle scurries, its golden back flashing in the sun, the tiny red spiders on the old wooden bench have this year given way to flying ants who appear to be mating in a frenzy of wings.
But It’s Not The Same.
12 months have made a dreadful difference to the world order. Covid creeps onwards, monkeypox and its insidious mates keep us fearful. Boris is gone but not forgotten and what next for him – and us? It becomes more obvious every day that the powers that be don’t know Northern Ireland exists – we’re a mythological fairy tale. We don’t do ourselves any favours however when it comes to establishing our credentials nor trumpeting our talents let alone our professional skills. We’ve no leaders or spokespersons of any import, a rag bag of argumentative hot heads, ‘what we have we hold’ attitude including millions of pounds originally destined for improving our lives. How dare they.
Like the brain drain from Northern Ireland, the little birds here are gathering to fly away for the winter. I dare say they’ll be back this time next year but will our outgoing doctors and nurses, our tradesmen and our professionals?Will Trump be back on his throne; will the protocol be settled to everyones satisfaction and most of all will Ukraine be at peace and rebuilding or, like the Gaza Strip, Afghanistan and the rest, still be living in fear and destruction.
As I look out over the bay to the mountains beyond, a dog is barking miles away, a white butterfly lands on a delicate blue harebell and I appreciate how fortunate I am. We’ve all weathered a tough year and I’ve interviewed and talked to some remarkable people during that time.
Recently Paul Dawson due to be pulled up Slieve League, at 2000 feet the highest sea cliff in Ireland, whilst sitting in his wheelchair. Why? Because he wants to see the view. Writing of Paddy Hopkirk who died in July, a rally driver who captured media attention and respect, Susie Millar who is taking the story of the Titanic round the world, Maureen Maguire whose family tragedy inspired her to serve the community through Soroptimist International. Each is an example to our young people, those children playing on the beach as the early morning temperatures rise to record levels, the boy mastering his kite, the teenage turks in the tavern.
I have great faith in the up and coming generation, they learn a lot from the Internet and nothing much from other social media that is beneficial.
Gannets
Sadly this year there are so few birds singing, even seagulls are in short supply, apparently avian bird flu in Scotland means that the world’s largest colony of northern gannets on the Bass Rock is expected to be down by 25%.
The Sky At Night
One of the glories of Donegal, and one that hopefully cannot be taken away, is the inky black sky at night, the Milky Way, the planets and the stars are breath taking, there were shooting stars but sadly I didn’t see them. In the past as a family we’ve lain on the grass and watched the sky erupt, each meteor a wish. Those were the days when we didn’t care about tics and if by any chance this obnoxious little creature did make its presence felt, there was always someone with tweezers. This year there was a special treat, a super moon, What a glorious sight. After a stunning day there was a haze over the horizon and suddenly this huge translucent globe dominated the sky over Ardara and it was breathtaking. The Sea of Tranquility was clear to see, craters and hills. What a wonderful specular delight caught in this picture taken by Susan Hailes Harkin. Memories.
The meadow field was cut, the special tractor went up and down, round and round until the grass lay in long lines which were left for three days to dry in the brutal sunshine; then the dance of the tractors began. Five machines in one field scooping up the grass, compressing it in circular bales and then the fascination of the black plastic being wound round and round to keep the winter feed dry until it’s needed. That might be sooner than expected as the cost of food stuff for animals has doubled and farmers are facing a very worrying future.
Climate Change Kills
During the heatwave one fisherman had to throw some of his lobster catch back into the sea as they died of sunstroke despite him keeping them well covered in sea water. So when I rabbit on about the glories of Donegal, these are these hard working people who live here and face global warming, water shortages, rising prices for diesel for their farm equipment, cattle and sheep to sheltered and feed with an unpredictable winter ahead and no accommodation for students taking up university places.
So, as I leave my vantage point over looking the bay and the mountains beyond, I ask myself about next year. Will I be sitting in the same place again enjoying the wonder that is my favourite place on earth? I suspect I will have different thoughts but I hope I can bring them here to consider and, as my old English teacher would say, inwardly digest. For now I go home to Belfast with a lighter step, a touch of sunburn and a few more pounds round my middle! Goodbye August, with trepidation I say, hello September.
The saddest event of the last few days was the death by drowning of two young boys in Londonderry.
Reuven Simon and Joseph Sebastian died after getting into difficulty at Enagh Lough on Monday evening and were buried in a joint funeral. The 16 year old friends were pupils at St. Columb’s College in Derry. To offer sympathies to their parents, friends and family seems inadequate. It has been a great shock to everyone reading their story and their untimely deaths is a stark warning to others.
HELP RELIEVE THE HEARTBREAK
Apparently, since 1959, scientists say that Pakistan has emitted about 0.4% of heat-trapping carbon dioxide, compared to 21.5% by the United States and 16.4% by China and yet there’s been devastating floods that have submerged one third of the country with 33 million people affected all blamed on global warming. It must be impossible to know how many have died. Even though the flood waters have receded waterborne diseases have broken out. Imagine having one of our usual ailments under those conditions – hip surgery required, crippling back pain, toothache, diverticulitus, bites and breathing difficulties.
Crops have been devastated, rice fields washed away, three quarters of a million animals have died and the Pakistan government is importing vegetables to feed the people. According to initial government estimates the devastation has caused $10 billion in damages. Details of how to donate at Disasters Emergency Committee – DEC – on line.
My father was one of three brothers who excelled at cricket, the Shaw boys were quite famous locally. Two sons went on to play for local teams and one daughter (me) played for Ulster ladies. It was all very dignified, all dressed in white, walking to the crease sedately, no shouting, oranges at half time, modest clapping and then tea in the club house with sandwiches and cakes provided by the wives and girlfriends.
My dad was a traditionalist so I laughed at the thought of him watching the ladies cricket match at Lords yesterday afternoon! As in all the recent ladies sport – athletics, football and tennis – long hair rules. Either in bunches, buns or swinging from an elastic band. These girls in the Hundred Woman’s Champions Final bounded around in brightly coloured shirts and trousers, lurid coloured sun glasses, helmets with grids to protect their faces and at times one of the fielders giving a commentary! There was a lot of hugging and wouldn’t he have been taken aback when a commentator interviewing one of the team remarked that her wife was batting at that moment! And instead of quartered oranges there was a ‘strategic time out’ at one stage. It simply isn’t cricket. Well not as we knew it. However having said that I know he would have been delighted with the quality of the cricket, the crowd of almost 30,000 watching and enjoying and the number of children obviously having great fun as they followed the game. And it ended with fireworks, a trophy celebration, women chewing gum with their mouths open and a rock band! Call me old fashioned but it was quite a shock to the system.
Grand Prix to look forward to this afternoon.
