It has been one of the stormiest days for a long time and the sea took on a whole new look in Co. Waterford today.
Stormy seas have a wild beauty about them, but they are also reminders to never, ever take the ocean for granted as it has its moodiness and turbulent times, just like the rest of us.
Here’s a few quotes about storms that I especially like:
The heart of a man is very much like the sea, it has its storms, it has its tides and in its depths it has its pearls too. ( Vincent van Gogh)
You don’t have to love the storm but you have to know its language in case you meet it. (Mehmet Murat ildan)
There is a great deal of unmapped country within us which would have to be taken into account in an explanation of our gusts and storms. (George Eliot)
America needs to get over it. We can’t control everything. We can’t control the storms. (Russel Honore)
Nothing is more beautiful than love that has weathered the storms of life. The love of the young for the young, that is the beginning of life. But the love of the old for the old, that is the beginning of things longer. (Jerome K. Jerome)
Be thou the rainbow in the storms of life. The evening beam that smiles the clouds away, and tints tomorrow with prophetic ray. (Lord Byron)
Today brought one of those excursions with son, Harry, that I always enjoy so much.
We went walking in Portlaw Woods which are about twenty minutes drive from Tramore.
Walking in woods is something I associate very much with Christmas time and it’s something Mother and Father introduced us to from when we were very young.
A hauntingly beautiful feature of Portlaw Woods is De La Poer Tower which was built in 1785 by the First Marquis of Waterford, George De La Poer Beresford, Earl of Tyrone, in memory of his son who died in a horse riding accident. The tower is 70 ft high and is very much a local landmark.
Here’s how it looked as the sun was setting:
The tower certainly is a remarkable memorial to a son and it made me all the more appreciative of having my 6ft 3in towering son walking along beside me.
The River Suir is one of the longest rivers in Ireland. It has been a part of my life in various different parts of the country.
Here’s how it was as I stood on Fiddown Bridge one evening recently.
Clonmel was ‘home’ in my student years and the place where I met up with hubby.
The Suir enters the sea a few miles from Waterford city. I see it almost every day and feel it is part of my stream of consciouness as Co. Waterford is my birthplace and home now for over 25 years.
I love the bends in this wonderful body of water. They say so much about the unexpected; and the hidden beauty that lies in wait.
But that evening on Fiddown Bridge, I wasn’t thinking about past or future. It was more a deep appreciation of the flow of life and being able to take in the fullness of the river at high tide as it brought a calmness with that gentle glow of pink as night fell.
Tides are high here in Co. Waterford these times. I could spend hours just watching the waves.
I took this photograph over the harbour wall out at Boat Strand yesterday morning. I must admit to feeling a little seasick as I look at it now even though I felt absolutely wonderful when I was actually there to witness the sea in all her glory.
There’s a beauty as well as a poignancy in decay as I saw with my own eyes in Portlaw Village here in Co. Waterford the other day.
It was a church tower in the distance that caught my eye and drawing up close I was very taken by the red door:
The tarnished plaque above the door brings us back to the time of the Great Famine in Ireland in the 1840s:
Looking upward, there were signs that the church is in a state of decay and that the red door that once opened to a congregation is now a door into the past:
The sight of this church window peering out from behind its coat of ivy confirmed that this was a place from the past ~ a place from which only the echoes of church music can be heard. But what of the births, marriages and deaths that were marked here and the weekly services where people would meet as community?
Standing on the lovely stone bridge, the full picture of decay emerged. I left saddened and wondering but also touched by the peace of the place.
There’s a joy about driving down little lane ways in Ireland because one often comes across beautiful cottages that are clearly loved by their owners.
Recently, I came across two beauties near a little inlet here in Co. Waterford. I’ve come to think of them as The Blue Door
and Little Red
At the bottom of the lane was the tranquil sea:
Seeing these cottages made me think of a woman I met in a shop in Washington DC, who, on hearing my Irish accent, asked me if Ireland really has white-washed cottages, beside the sea which are bedecked in roses in Summertime.
I smiled that day as she described her vision of Ireland. Yes, it is somewhat stereotypical but it’s a stereotype that makes me love this little corner of the world.