There’s times when I feel I’ve got rose-tinted glasses on and yesterday evening was one of those occasions.
I was out around Newtown Cove bringing Puppy Stan for a walk on what was a lovely warm, sunny evening and here’s what drew mine eyes:
It’s proving to be a month of very high seas, strong gales, heavy rain and thick mists. Daily constitutionals with Puppy Stan at the seaside are all about dancing through foamy waves and embracing the Turner-like colours when they appear for fleeting moments.
I said ‘Goodnight’ to the calmest sea imaginable last night. It was like she was a sleeping baby snuggled up in light blue and pink.
What I woke to this morning was a different sort of child ~ dark and moody but with a glint of hope in her eyes.
I made for Newtown Cove doubting that a swim would be possible because of the rising tide and choppy waves.
What greeted me was a packed car park and when I looked down I saw that there were lots of people swimming in the sheltered inlet.
Some of the better swimmers were diving in towards the open sea:
Seeing the swimmers was one thing but joining them was quite another. The sense of togetherness was palpable. Friends, acquaintances, strangers … it didn’t matter. Everyone was chatting to everyone. This was a moment of communal love and respect for both the sea and those who crave it.
All the talk was about how warm the water still is; how a swim sets you up for the day; how Ireland should beat Italy in the Rugby World Cup …
See, it’s not all about appearances. It’s about embracing and enjoying nature and connecting with kindred spirits in the process.
How was YOUR Sunday Morning?
Puppy Stan woke me this morning in what seemed like the dead of night and he and I headed out into the darkness to meet the softest misty rain and a gentle breeze. As he tugged me to the corner of our road, I caught sight of the barest first glimmerings of today.
The blinds of dawn were being eased up by the gentlest of hands as if giving us time to run home, grab car and camera and answer the call of the waves.
The drama that unfolded was magical ~ never to be seen in quite the same form again, never ever as each jewelled today comes but once.
Out along the Cliff Road, a gull soared in celebration:
Newtown Cove, from where Harry and I will cast the Wishing Stones on New Year’s Eve was bathed in golden light:
Not knowing when the dawn will
come I open every door.
(Emily Dickinson)
It’s quite a few years ago now that our New Year’s Eve Wishing Stone Ritual was born. My son and I make our way to Newtown Cove, just outside Tramore, here in Co. Waterford in Ireland.
We each select the most perfect stones we can find and cast them into the sea. Newtown Cove is a magical place ~ high cliffs on either side and the hauntingly beautiful Newtown Wood just behind.
Such a simple ceremony, but one in which memories of the year just gone and hopes for the next are added to the whispering, or sometimes, roaring, waves.
If you would like me to cast a Wishing Stone for you, wherever you are in the world, just let me know, either in the comments here or by email: jeantubridy@aol.com. You’ll know what that stone carries and the sea will certainly understand.
If this post feels familiar, it is one that I wrote too close to New Year’s Eve in the last few years so I wanted to give a little more notice this time round!
My very special haunt, and one that I visit every single day, is Newtown Wood, just about a mile from my home here in Tramore.
Only yesterday a couple stopped me at the top of the wood, where I’d parked the car, and asked: Where does that path go?
For me, it’s a path that leads to peace, ever-changing nature and the sea. Newtown Wood goes back to the O’Neill-Power family, of the now sadly decrepit Newtown House who planted the trees almost two hundred years ago.
Newtown Wood is the place where I think, plan and go forward with renewed anticipation each day. I know it so well, at this stage, that I feel I can read its every change and mood, just as it seems to be able to read mine.
Here’s a sense of how it has been over the last few mornings when I’ve been there with ‘puppy’ Stan:
I’d love to hear about your special haunt and/or the place where you take your daily constitutional.
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.
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.’
It’s quite a few years ago now that our New Year’s Eve Wishing Stone Ritual was born. My son and I make our way to Newtown Cove, just outside Tramore, here in Co. Waterford in Ireland. We each select the most perfect stones we can find and cast them into the sea. Newtown Cove is a magical place ~ high cliffs on either side and the hauntingly beautiful Newtown Wood just behind.
Such a simple ceremony, but one in which memories of the year just gone and hopes for the next are added to the whispering, or sometimes, roaring, waves.
If you would like me to cast a Wishing Stone for you, wherever you are in the world, just let me know, either in the comments here or by email: jeantubridy@aol.com You’ll know what that stone carries and the sea will certainly understand.
If this post feels familiar, it is one that I wrote too close to New Year’s Eve last year so I wanted to give a little more notice this time round!
Were you ever so full of inspiration that you felt you could barely write? Well, that’s how I am today. It’s all because I’ve been soaking myself in what I consider to be my Tramore ~ and I haven’t even been for my daily swim yet!
Tramore has lots of different faces and many of these have been beautifully captured at two exhibitions that are running in town. My first port of call was the Church of Ireland Hall where I viewed the annual exhibition of a group of extremely talented artists.
It’s well over 30 years since the Art Group started exhibiting and the paintings seem to get better and better every year. The stand-out painting for me at this year’s exhibition was called One Misty Morning by Jimmy O’Brien-Moran that captured the historic and atmospheric Promenade here in Tramore.
I went straight from the Art Exhibition to a solo Photographic Exhibition by Sinead Boyle. It is being held at Tramore Coastguard Cultural Centre ~ which has a long history of its own, having once been the local Garda Station among other things.
I first met Sinead Boyle back in the ‘big snow’ of 2010 at sunset on the Victorian Doneraile Walk which overlooks Tramore Bay. We were later to be co-students on a Postgraduate Certificate course on Heritage/Tourism: Sense of Place run by the University of Wales Trinity Saint David (2012-2013).
I was completely captivated by Sinead’s exhibition which is called A Photographic Journey through the Lens: Sense of Place. She had told me soon after meeting that she had taken up photography as a teenager and was totally inspired by seeing a number of exhibitions that my father held in the 1980s.
I had quite a sense of deja vu looking at the moodiness of Sinead’s photographs today. I just love the way she has included images of Tramore Bay in every conceivable light, at different times of the year and also both in its nakedness and fully clothed to host the thousands of visitors we receive each year.
I had lots of favourites, including Winter Solstice that portrays an elderly man walking on the beach as the sun was setting on December 21st. In so many ways, the image reminded me of Cicero’s book On a Life Well Spent that sustained me greatly through the last sixteen months of Father’s long life. Another was one called Indian Summer which portrays the Life Guards’ Hut when it was painted a striking and most vibrant orange.
Interestingly, though, I think my very favourite is a black and white photograph of the Promenade at night in Winter. To me, it epitomised Tramore in very much the same way that Jimmy O’Brien Moran’s painting had just an hour or so before.
Sinead Boyle’s exhibition runs for another week until August 17th. Don’t miss it!
I had made arrangements with myself to soak in the last weekend of this year’s Turner Exhibition at the National Gallery of Ireland in Dublin on Saturday and Sunday. However, life got in the way and I never made it.
http://www.nationalgallery.ie/
In the midst of everything, I just couldn’t get Turner and his seascapes, with those magnificent colours of his, out of my mind. So I decided that the next best thing to being at the exhibition was to work with the lovely coast that I have all around me here in Co. Waterford.
It has been a stormy few days all I could do while the greyness lingered was to collect Turner-coloured stones from the beach. Then, I managed to capture a sunset and this morning was sheer ecstasy as Tramore saw the most beautiful sunrise at high tide in stormy seas.
So, I hope you enjoy this little selection:
SOCIAL BRIDGE ~ Jean Tubridy connecting with you from Ireland 