“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I – I took
the one less travelled by,
And that has made all the difference”
It has been many years since I took a ramble around Killargue where I live. In recent years I have eschewed what was under my nose, preferring to head to the nearby Sligo coast when going for a walk. But since coming back from my last trip overseas, my car has been banjaxed and I have been spending more time at home in Killargue. I started doing what I have been meaning to do for years - potter in the garden - planting apple trees that I had been given as a gift previously. They had remained valiantly constrained in their pots, wistfully blooming every year in hope of better days ahead. This was to be their year. I also turned my attention to the lanes and places round where I live in Killargue and began to explore once again as I used to do when I first arrived here back in 2001.
When I first arrived to live in Ireland nearly 15 years ago, I spent many happy hours wandering the back lanes of Killargue and absorbing it's history. The name Killargue is an anglicised version of Cill Fearga which means church of Fearga. St Fearga was a holy woman who back in the sixth century founded a religious settlement here in Killargue. This foundation flourished for several hundred years. So Killargue is an ancient place of pilgrimage, probably associated with the spring or holy well which is just a 5 minute walk from the village on the road heading south to Carrick on Shannon, the capital of Leitrim.
There is a type of "pilgrimage walk" that I take in Killargue, that I had not done for a good while. I had not been around Killargue during full Spring for the last few years, having been overseas on and off. I had forgotten the onslaught to your senses that Spring in Ireland brings.
So I put my feet back on a familiar walk that I used to take. Coming out of my house I turn right onto the small lane way that leads to the main road. I often forget that this small lane way used to be the main Carrick -on -Shannon to Manorhamilton road when I first arrived back in 2001. Then the "bend" was taken out of the road by cutting across it with a wider bit of road.So instead of me living right on the main road it set me back off the road a bit. It is now hard to imagine that the small pot-holed overgrown lane way outside my house used to be the main route from Carrick -on - Shannon to Manorhamilton and quickest route to Donegal. I cross the road opposite the church and open the wee gate at the right side of the church, heading up the path, past the memorial to the soldiers from the Killargue area ( including relatives of mine) who died in the 1st and 2nd World War. This year it is 100 years since the 1st World War and all these young men are being fittingly remembered. I pass under the big church bell and through another gate to the lane way that crosses in front of me. Over, across the lane to the left is the old national school.I take the path opposite the gate that leads up to the old graveyard. Now I am on the crest of a small hill and I can see down into Killargue below. With Spring in full pelt, I have already heard several cuckoos. I never, never get over hearing the real life sound of a cuckoo. For me, having been brought up in London, the sound of a cuckoo was something that I had read about in books, an almost mythical occurrence, like the sound of a nightingale singing in Berkeley Square, London. It is the same with the cuckoo. Every time I hear the sound in Killargue, I cannot believe that I am hearing the sound of a real life cuckoo. Along the path there would be that spring colour combination of yellow and purple - the creamy buttermilk yellow of primroses along the stonewalls, interspersed with luxuriant, velvety purple dog violets - they always seemed to go be side by side. Peering closer I could spot more delicate, shy flowers like the bluish - lilac speedwell. Then, the even shyer ,sprawling Our Lady's blue of the forget -me -not in their favoured damp spot of a ditch or drain as they are known here in Ireland. It is said in a German legend that God had named all the plants when a tiny unnamed one cried out "Forget -me -not ,O Lord!". And so God replied "That shall be your name"
So,wending my way further up the lane way, we arrive at the old graveyard.There I find the ancient ruined tiny church that was used as a place of worship, first by those followers of that holy woman St Fearga and then continued for centuries as a Catholic church.
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| St Fearga's Church, Old Killargue graveyard |
While there I stop a while to look at the grave of my grandparents and great grandparents situated just in front of the ancient crumbling church.The Blessing of the Graves takes place here every June.People tidy the graves of their relatives and put flowers on them.On the day of the blessing, everyone gathers at the various graves and the priest comes round to bless the graves. It provides a dramatic backdrop and always makes me think that it could be the opening scene of a film set in quintessential north west Ireland. The camera would pan round the graveyard focusing in on the various families whose stories would unfold as the film plot progresses.
Then on to the Holy Well that I had mentioned earlier. To get there I have to walk down the main road a bit, round the corner to where the hazel bushes start. There is a sign with the Holy Well written on it and you go through the adjacent gate. Immediately on the left there is a stone archway that you could almost mistake for the Holy Well.But this is a 19th century lime kiln. In fact once you see this you will then recognise that many of the large rocks around on the way down the path to the well along the side of a field, are limestone.
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| Path down to Holy Well flanked by limestone rocks |
The lime kiln is one of many that were in use around Killargue from the middle of the 19th century to the middle of this century. It was used to burn limestone taken from the quarries in the local area. Lime was applied to the land to act as fertiliser and it was also used to whitewash houses.The open field gives way to a wooded area and through a small gate, I enter a glade. The huge trees nearby cast a dappled, greenish hue into the clearing. And in a rocky corner is the Holy Well with it's statue of Our Lady and St Bernadette set in a grotto beside the spring or well. There is a a stone cross nearby believed to be very ancient and similar in design to a very rare type of cross unearthed at Tullaghan about 200 years ago. At this time of year in Spring there are blue bells carpeting a nearby bank. Crossing the glade is a stream that disappears under a bridge into the small rocky backdrop which forms the well.
Later in early summer there are sun warmed wild strawberries along the path to the well.It has that hushed mysterious silence that many open grassy areas in a wood or forest have. Maybe it is something to do with the way the light dapples in through the green canopy of trees.That feeling that the person there is not the first to have passed this way to stop, rest, take in the light. The merry coursing sound of the stream breaks the silence so that the person does not feel too alone and it also would have provided sustenance in the past if a person was thirsty after a long walk.No wonder people would have stopped here so many centuries ago.And what happens to us humans when we stop a while? Those busy brains of ours get working - and so before you know it - that area becomes a place of discourse,worship,habitation - in this case a place of worship - Celtic later Catholic and now a place of peace. There is a holly tree nearby where people have hung pieces of material, some strangely poignant - a small sock, a bit of a tie, a flibbertigibbet bit of gauzy scarf. Holy Wells have been thought of as places of healing and it is thought that people put pieces of material or other clothing items on a tree for good luck or as a hope for cure of their affliction whatever that may be.
And so there it is - a bit of Camino de Santiago right under my nose - from the new church to the grave yard and the old church and then to the Holy Well of Killargue.
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| Holy Well,Killargue |
The news this week was the spectre of the situation revolving around Lissadell House raising it's head once more.
Lissadell is a country house constructed in the neo classical revivalist style and is situated just outside Sligo city in north west Ireland. It is historically significant for several reasons. First it was the home of Countess Marcievicz, a member of the Gore-Booth family.She was famous for being a key player in the 1916 rising, the founder of the Sinn Fein movement and the first minister for labour in the newly formed Dail Eireann.. It was also a place that was much frequented and much admired by the poet Yeats who alludes to it in his poetry: "Many a time I think to seek one or other out and speak of that old Georgian mansion, mix pictures of the mind,recall that table and the talk of youth".
In addition to playing a part in late nineteenth/early twentieth century Irish history and art, the house is set within stunning landscape with Benbulben mountain as it's backdrop and looking out to Drumcliffe bay to the forefront. It has it's own beach with seals,a wildlife sanctuary for Barnacle geese and is also a working farm.  |
| Lissadell House,Sligo |
However it has also been the subject of much acrimony and brinkmanship. Issues over rights of way meant that this house has been lost as a major contribution to tourism in Sligo. I remember back in 2001 when I arrived to live in Leitrim when the Gore -Booths put the house on the market.It was an opportunity for the state to buy it but they passed on it saying they did not have enough money and that it would require over 20 million pounds to refurbish it. In 2003 it was bought by a couple, the Walsh - Cassidys for over 3 million euro. They spent a lot less than 20 million predicted by the state - 9.5 million in restoring it. They transformed the house and gardens, beginning by buying back much of the house furniture at an auction. The old stables were renovated and made into a cafe and gift shop and the house brought back to how it was. Also a museum on the life of the Gore-Booth family, focusing on Countess Marcievicz was established.
Shortly after they bought the house the owners began to restrict access through a small part of the estate mainly in front of the house, citing privacy and safety concerns. Protests over the reduced access through the estate began, with the formation of a group called the Lissadell Action Group, campaigning to have public rights of way confirmed, through the estate. The protestors calimed that there had been free access through parts of the estate for 100 years previously. This claim was backed up by the most recent ancestral owner, Sir Josslyn himself,who in an interview in 1987 recorded in the Lissadell Estate papers, said " Tbis sea drive or avenue,then turns inland through the woods to the west of the house,eventually curving round to the north entrance of the house".
I myself, remember going quite frequently to Lissadell during that time of dispute and was always able to access the beach there and that road was always open with no restrictions.It seemed to be more the road nearer the house, especially the bit going past the house entrance that was the focus of privacy and safety concerns for the present owners. This seemed to be about 500 metres which did not appear to reduce access that much, especially as the bit in question went right past the front door of the house. Unfortunately the dispute gained legs of it's own where Sligo County Council eventually voted unanimously to preserve rights of way on all 4 avenues through the estate, instead of just the small bit that was originally the focus of the dispute. In response to this brinkmanship, the owners announced the house's closure in January 2009.The owners then instituted legal proceedings against the council claiming that there are no dedicated public rights of way over the estate and the council counterclaimed. In 2010 the judgement upholding the council's claims over the avenues was upheld by the High Court. However the Walsh -Cassidys contested this and took it to the Supreme Court.In November 2013 the Supreme Court ruled in favour of the Walsh - Cassidys. It ruled that there were no public rights of way over three of the avenues and found there was a right of way over part of the fourth route, the coastal route to the beach spoken of earlier here. A couple of weeks ago the Supreme Court found that Sligo County Council must pay 75% of the costs of the court proceedings etc. estimated at over 5 million euro. This is on top of a staggering debt of 94 million euro debt accumulated by Sligo council over the years. It is worth noting that the state ( ie: us - the tax payer) are now paying more in court costs than they/us would have had to pay for the house if they had bought it back in 2001.
Back to Killargue and returning to my less travelled road from my house to the Holy Well. The poem from which that line is taken is not as straightforward as we think. It is easy to assume that the road less travelled was the more adventurous and ultimately the more fulfilling one. However once you read the whole poem, Robert Frost seemed to be saying that neither road was better - just that some day in the future he would look back and realise the point at which he took a particular direction in life. The poet had come to the decision that, for good or ill, the choice he made where "the two roads diverged in a yellow road" will be permanent and highly effecting of his life. He looks ahead to a time where he can look back and tell that the choice he made whether wisely or unwisely, was the point at which his life's path was set.
On my present camino or path, I hear the cuckoo once more,spot a few marsh marigolds in a nearby field and see the brilliant orange- red breast and black heads of a pair of bullfinch darting in and out of burgeoning hawthorn bushes. And in the midst of all that peace and calm I was thinking that if only all those involved in that bitter dispute around Lissadell could look back at that fork in the road where they had decided to take the more belligerent and ultimately no win for anyone road. And unlike the author of the original poem where "Yet knowing how way leads on way, I doubted if i should ever come back" could come back and decide to take a different road - towards a solution.
The Road Not Taken (by Robert Frost)
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
And sorry I could not travel both
And be but one traveller,long I stood
And looked down as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth
Then took the other,as just as fair
And having perahps the better claim
Beacuse it was grassy and wanted wear
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden back
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I
I took the one less travelled by
And that has made all the difference.
Postscript
Several months after writing this - in June 2014, a more benign atmosphere began to prevail concerning the Lissadell House situation where all parties seemed prepared to compromise more. A new Sligo county manager and the Walsh-Cassidys seemed more able to settle their differences and Lissadell House has now re opened. Unlike in the Robert Frost poem, finally they did take that other road towards a solution. And because of that, we can all once again have the opportunity to stand in the same spot in Lissadell House and see as Yeats once did "The light of evening, Lissadell,Great windows open to the south"
The light of evening,Lissadell,
Great windows open to the south,
Two girls in silk kimonos, both
Beautiful, one a gazelle.
But a raving autumn shears
Blossom from the summer's wreath:
The older is condemned to death,
Pardoned,drags out the lonely years
Conspiring among the ignorant.
I know not what the younger dreams-
Some vague Utopia- and she seems
When withered old and skeleton gaunt,
An image of such politics.
Many a time I think to seek
One or the other out and speak
Of that old Georgian mansion,mix
pictures of the mind,recall
That table and the talk of youth,
Two girls in kimonos,both
Beautiful,one a gazelle.
Dear shadows,now you know it all,
All the folly of a fight
With a common wrong or right.
The innocent and the beautiful
Have not enemy but time;
Arise and bid me strike a match
And strike another till time catch:
Should the conflagration climb,
Run till all the sages know.
We the great gazebo built,
They convicted us of guilt;
Bid me strike a match and blow.
(W.B Yeats)
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| Looking out onto Drumcliffe Bay, Lissadell |
