Cycle of Life

I was pretty much car-less during the blogging break and returned to cycling after years and years of being away from it.

It has been stunning to find that while distance may be far more restricted on a bike, one’s senses are much more active.

Tramore Bay from The Cliff Road.

It’s hard to beat the sensation of freewheeling out along the Cliff Road here in Tramore with the sea breeze kissing one’s face; the warm embrace of the scent of the dazzling gorse; snippets of conversations of couples walking; the singing of the birds as they watch from their chosen perches …..

Special Branch!

Every journey on the bike brings back memories of other times: Mother waiting at the school gate when I was in Junior Infants and wheeling me home on her big black bicycle that she’d had since she was a teenager; Dad regaling us all with his party trick of cycling backwards; the journey to and from school in Drogheda on my natty blue bike with the little wheels and big basket; hot Summer cycles with my big brother when we’d invariably find a forbidden river, lake or beach in which to take a cooling dip; pedalling home at all hours during College days nights in Dublin …..

More than anything, the bicycle has re-alerted me to the ups and downs of life; and the importance of forward momentum!

Flow of Life

Ireland ~ The Land of Horses

Horses are a fundamental part of Ireland and Irishness. We stand tall on the world stage when it comes to horse-breeding, horse-racing, show-jumping and so many great names and places comes to mind when horses are mentioned in the Irish context.  How about Arkle, Redrum, Dawn Run, Moscow Flyer, Nijinsky, Shergar, Australia,  Vincent O’ Brien,  Tom Dreaper, Aidan O’ Brien, Jim Bolger, Capt. Michael Tubridy, Eddie Macken, Paul Darragh,  Coolmore Stud, The Curragh, Punchestown, Fairyhouse, Pat Taaffe,  Ruby Walsh, Barry Geraghty,  The Royal Dublin Horse Show,  Laytown Races …  just for starters?

Horses have always been part of my landscape. I loved hearing my father telling me about his younger brother, Michael, who was a world class show jumper and nothing soothed me more at bedtime than Mother telling me about her happy childhood days on a farm with her beloved pony, Jock.  I must have read every single book that was ever written about young girls and their ponies and was fortunate to be brought to places like the Dublin Horse Show and race meetings all round the country.

I have what I consider to be my very own ‘horse show’ here in Tramore every day when I bring the dogs out along Cliff Road to Newtown Wood. There is a field, with a spectacular view of  Tramore Bay, which is the grazing place of the friendliest horses I know. These are horses that trot gently over to the gate to be patted.  I could spend hours there running my fingers through their manes and gazing into their big brown eyes.

I guess most Irish people have a special field such as this in which noble, nuzzling friends reside and ones that evoke thoughts of echoing hooves and contented whinnying.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here’s My Beloved Tramore ~ Native Heath and Oasis of Peace

Tramore, Co. Waterford in the sunny south-east of Ireland is the place where I was born and the place that has been home now for the last twenty-five years.

Tramore Beach and Backstrand from the Doneraile Walk

Yesterday morning I was woken by puppy, Stan, who lured me out for a walk at dawn.  It was one of those golden mornings and I felt absolutely blessed as we strolled along a route which is beyond familiar to me but which is ever-changing.

Rather than heading to the three mile long beach, from which Tramore takes its name, we stayed at the top of the town. This took us passed the two churches, which merge in my mind as the child of a mixed marriage.

The Victorian Doneraile Walk, which has such wonderful vistas of  Tramore Bay, called us. It is the place where my mother walked every evening when she was pregnant with me and I just love the views it provides of Tramore Bay. From there, we went to the Pier where the boats were tugging and waiting for the tide to rise. One man, though, was up bright and early paddling in his kayak.

The Cliff Road is the place that I associate with my own pregnancy almost  twenty years ago now. I walked it daily for the nine months and got to know every nook and cranny along the way.

And our final destination was Newtown Wood which has the little bridge that I consider to be my very own social bridge.

I hope you enjoy this short slideshow of the photographs which I took on Sunday. I know that Tramore will never, ever look exactly the same because its beauty is ever-changing with the time, tide, light, weather, season and, I suppose, the mood and interests of the beholder.

A free picture slideshow by Smilebox

Things I Adore about My Ireland

Last night, a quick walk with puppy Stan, turned out to be a two and a half hour stroll that brought home to me many of the things I absolutely adore about the Ireland ~ and especially the Tramore, that is both my native heath and the place where I’ve now lived permanently for 23 years.

It was a very drizzly evening and when I popped into our busy, vibrant local Centra shop, I just loved the way the cheery guy who was stacking  shelves said: Sure we get all four seasons in one day in this country.  I’d never thought of it that way before but he’s right and the four seasons can also, of course, mean meeting with people from all generations. Tramore is a town with a population of around 11,000 which swells, like the high tide, during the tourist season and on sunny Sundays.

I didn’t meet a soul out for the walk that  took me down passed the beautifully named Glór na Mara school ( Glór na Mara translates into Voice/Sound of the Sea). It is just at this point that I catch my first glimpse of  Tramore Bay. Yes, I could hear the whisper of the waves and see the lights of the more than inviting Promenade.

My Ireland abounds with glorious choices ~ drop down to the seafront or take a higher route along the Victorian Doneraile Walk, with its vistas of the Bay and views right along the cliffs to the Metal Man and beyond.

Last night, the Doneraile called, with its beautiful old walls, sweeping terraces and the feel of the salty breeze from the sea in my face. Tramore Tennis Club, that played such a huge role in my life looks down onto the Doneraile and, as I approached, I heard the last rally of a friendly game with the sounds of the echoing tennis ball and laughing players ringing out in the gloaming.

Out on the Cliff Road, it seemed as if the sea was rising up to meet me I had to stop to watch the bobbing boats in The Pier ~ not yet alseep, but wrapped up well in the arms of the harbour.

Though damp, there was a warmth in the air, as we made our way down through Newtown Wood towards Newtown Cove. Sea Pinks adorned the cliffs and I couldn’t resist casting a Wishing Stone into the gentle waters.

Newtown Cove, Tramore, Co. Waterford

There’s an old saying that Faraway Hills are Greener, but I’ll let you into a secret. My wish last night was that Tramore will always be ‘home.’

 

Season of Mists ~ Gatherings from Ireland # 252

Tramore was veiled in sea mist this morning and as I walked out the Cliff Road I gradually came to realise how my eyes are usually drawn way out to sea and bypass all sorts of other beauty.

It seems somewhat paradoxical that it took a fog to make me see more clearly and I wonder if there are parallels in life itself.  Maybe we need what seem like foggy, muggy, gray days to gain new insights and perspectives.