Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Update from Ireland

So I'm here in Ireland halfway through my stay. I've spent the last three weeks with one large Irish family, and now I'm on my way to another! Here are the four kids, aged 4-10:




The countryside here in County Cork is also beautiful, and green even now in February. This particular day was far sunnier than any other I've seen in Ireland so far:




Mostly, the family raises beef cattle, but they also have a few goats, chickens, bees, and five tiny pet lambs.




While I've been here, I spent one day in Cork City, and another in Killarney. In Killarney, I rented a bike to ride through a national park (Europe's oldest oak forest!) and the old man who rented me the bike demanded to take a picture of me:




I told him my mother would be thrilled. The bike ride was beautiful, through a forest, around a lake, by a waterfall or two, an abandoned 17th century abbey, and a manor house turned museum.




For your amusement (I hope), I have penned a few poems about my wwoofing experience. These may or may not be the first in a series, but I hope you enjoy them!

Lament whilst in Ireland

O, potato:
What a friend you have been
all these many years.
Popping by every so often
to feed and comfort;
mashed, baked, roasted, fried,
I was always happy to see you.

Then, potato:
You took our relationship
to the next level.
You started to visit every day,
sometimes twice or thrice:
boiled, reboiled, boiled again,
I think we should take a break.




Meditation on Moving Shit Around

Day by day, I don my gloves
and arm myself accordingly:
fork, spade, and barrow.

Chicken shit, I scrape from floors
bent double, holding my breath,
matted shavings onto the pile.

Goat poop, plopped in pellets,
I sweep up with the straw,
and haul to the heated heap.

Dog doo, I just try to avoid,
side-stepping in my wellies,
barrowing by on one wheel.

Ferret feces, I met but once,
which was one time too many:
fumes to fell an elephant.

But well-rotted manure: black gold!
Forkful at a time, into the garden;
full circle, moving shit around.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location:Kilmichael, Cork, Ireland

1 comment:

  1. Ah, your second poem - welcome to my world!
    Great photos and mental pictures- thank you!

    ReplyDelete