The Burren: Land of the Fertile Rock.

Slieve Elva from slieveelva.com

I have visited the Burren countless times over the years, each time I’m awestruck by the landscape which leads me astray amongst the grey purple rock and twisting roads.

Although the Burren appears barren, it has been inhabited and farmed for almost six millennia and 

is full of unexpected treasures awaiting discovery.

‘The Lowering Sky’

The iconic Poulnabrone dolmen, Poll na mBrón, "hole of sorrows”, above, is thought to have been built here because of a natural spring which rises close by. 

The spring has flowed for thousands of years as it does to this day. 

The ice carved rock and water scarred limestone holds the resting places of many ancestors.

Páirc na Binne wedge tomb is one of 80 such monuments on the Burren.

The Glenisheen collar, perhaps an offering to the gods, 

was found by a local man near Ballyvaughan in 1934.

Here Pagan practices sit side by side with Christian devotions.

Abbey at Kilmacduagh with hill top mound on the horizon.

A luxuriant hidden valley hides a clear spring well.

Spring flowers emerge in unlikely places.

There is a goddess above a doorway,

near a stone to cure the backache.

Twisted whitethorn turns against the Atlantic wind

and sudden lowering cloud descends down to the Flaggy Shore.

The wild Burren holds many surprises.

In recent years, Jeff O’Connell wrote about the late Patrick Sheehan, professor of Modern Irish Literature. He recalled a visit they made to the Burren at 2am to discover whether places, once inhabited, still held the spiritual traces of the people.

“ … if anyone had seen us they would have truly thought we were, truly, away with the fairies … 

Suddenly we began to see tiny points of light all over the place for maybe 15 or 20 minutes.

We were stunned and found we’d had the same kind of experience.

We headed home and hardly ever talked of it again.”

Years later O’Connell discovered that the spot they had visited was the site of a long deserted village.

Although I love this grey green landscape, I have come to realise that I'm not wholly at ease here.
In the silence broken only by birdcall and wind, I have often felt myself observed and am certain that for a few moments I am not alone.

The land of the fertile rock holds memories of the past and old ones still haunt the land.

For a taste of the Burren in spring:

My understanding of the Burren has been greatly increased by reading “The Book of The Burren’ which includes chapters on its’ geology, flora, wildlife, pre-history, sacred wells and much more. 

You can order the book HERE

For a glimpse into how life may have been lived in the 16th century, the Burren mystery novels by

local author Cora Harrison, featuring her Brehon detective, Mara, are worth reading.

Her books are HERE

But nothing compares to visiting the place itself. 

If you intend to visit the Burren this is the map you need. 

The Burren by Tim Robinson is detailed enough to show wells, sacred sites and places of folklore,
but beware - it will not stop you from being led astray. 

Available from: Tim and Máiréad Robinson. Folding Landscapes. 

Roundstone, Co. Galway.  Email: info@foldinglandscapes.com 

foldinglandscapes.com

The Many Coloured Land.

Yesterday, as daylight dwindled, I was sitting by the stove re-reading AE’s book

‘The Candle of Vision’ when my mind returned to the start of this year. 

I began 2016 here with a post dedicated to George William Russell, AE. 

His writing continued to inspire me through the bleak days of winter and later led me to seek out the Many Coloured Land, places of vision and creative power within myself and the landscape of Ireland.   

To read - Æ, artist & mystic - 

“And the old enchantment lingers in the honey-heart of earth.” LINK HERE

This January was icy but as daylight slowly grew I made preparations to honour Brigid on the Eve of her festival.

The cross was woven and set above the door. 

The brát was placed on the windowsill to catch her blessing as she emerged from nearby 

Croghan Hill, to walk the land. 

To read - "Brighid returns from the Otherworld" LINK HERE

The long desired greening had began by the time I travelled to Kildare, home of her eternal flame. 

Her fire pit held evidence of ritual 

and at Brigid’s Well I felt the rising of the year.

To read - "The promised Spring arrives" LINK HERE

In hindsight I now understand that water has flowed throughout my year. 

Visits to rivers, lakes, bogs and sacred wells have inspired me and strengthened my connection to the spirits of the land. 

I see now that it really began on the shores of Lough Gur, sacred to the goddess Áine. 

To read - LOUGH GUR - “a personality loved, but also feared.”

LINK HERE

Then on morning walks to my local river I spied white blossom on dark limbs.

The blackthorn blazed like pale spirits across the country.

To read "Blackthorn, dark sister of the May" LINK HERE

Pale primroses peeped from beneath hedges and gold glinted in the fields.

Bealtaine came nearer. I welcomed summer on May Eve in the old way by decorating a May bush 

and lighting a bonfire at twilight. 

To read - "The May bush ribbons dance as the Fairy Host pass by" LINK HERE

As the land brought forth her flowers and the sun stretched the evenings

I felt a strong pull towards water, the west and Irelands’ many sacred wells. 

To read - "Sacred water and three thousand Holy Wells" LINK HERE

To read - "By Stone, Whitethorn and Well" LINK HERE

One well in particular, Rathin Well in Co. Clare, was to connect me to a deep sorrow still felt
by many communities.

To read - "In silent need they searched for Holy ground" LINK HERE

The year turned towards harvest but water still drew me to loughs 

To read - "Lughnasa, loughs and a last salute to Summer." LINK HERE

and the dark bog spirits of the Midlands.

To read - "Dark Spirits of the Bog" LINK HERE

There were places where the Otherworld felt close

To read - "The Burren: Land of the Fertile Rock" LINK HERE

and a morning when I stepped into The Silence.

To read - "Otherworld Shenanigans: The Silence" LINK HERE

Throughout this years’ adventures The Cailleach, the Old Woman, has been close by.

She has threaded her way through images.

To read - "The Cailleach - Hag of the Mill & Mother of the Herd" LINK HERE

And words. 

To read - "A Samhain Story - The Lament of the Old Woman" LINK HERE

As I prepare to celebrate the birth of a new year she whispers in my ear -

“ There is more, much more yet to come. You have merely glimpsed the Many Coloured Land.” 

Outside The Cailleach traces frost upon the leaves but I know she has already planted 

the seeds of next years’ adventures.

Many thanks to you all for reading, following and commenting on this blog. 

May your New Year be filled with good food, good health & good company!

Meeting the Othercrowd in a Scented Land.

St. John’s Eve had not long passed, the air on the Slieve Aughty mountains was warm and along the way the foxgloves bloomed, a portent of what was to come.

Foxglove, Lus Mór, has long been associated with the Good People.

Also known as fairy thimbles, fairy gloves and witches’ bells they were considered 

unlucky to bring indoors.

A ritual involving foxglove was utilised by parents whose child had suffered a ‘fairy stroke’ 

and was thought to be a changeling. 

Three drops of foxglove were put in each ear and on the tongue of the infant before placing it on a shovel at the house door. 

The door was swung open three times whilst saying “ if you’re a fairy away with you.” 

If it was a changeling the child would die, if not the infant would recover.

St. John’s Eve was believed to be the best time to collect foxgloves but unless you were being paid 

to cut the flowers, great care had to be taken not to cross the Good People. 

One story tells that a woman was stopped from collecting them by a voice which called  

“ Don’t cut that if you’re not paid, or you’ll be sorry.”

Soon I was back on the Burren, truly a fertile rock at this time of year. 

The Land of the Fertile Rock - link to previous post HERE

I was greeted by mossy islands. 

 And miniature landscapes.

A green swathe around St. Fachtnan’s well.

Clear water pooled & a creature swam within, too fast to capture.

New offerings had been left, a tribute to Brigid.

From limestone crevices ferns unfurled.

 And orchids bloomed.

My destination lay hidden in peaceful hollow, a scented land.

Founded 40 years ago, The Burren Perfumery is a self-sufficient island 

where limestone walks lead to sensual delights. 

Over 700 species of flowering plants flourish on the Burren and the perfumes, soaps and creams created here are fragranced by indigenous plants. 

Leaving buildings and visitors behind I entered the herb garden, built on the site of the original 

old farmhouse garden of 1800’s.

A path, leading deeper into dappled green 

brought me to a secluded nook, a wilder place where foxgloves flourished.

Breathing deeply, eyes closed, I sat on old stone and cast my mind adrift.

It was in that silence I heard Them.

Quiet laughter at my side, a quiver in the leaves close by. 

I held my breath, all senses keen, 

but only the bowing foxgloves betrayed the passing of the Othercrowd.

***

To discover more about The Burren Perfumery please visit their website - HERE

Take a brief tour of the perfumery, the tea rooms and the grounds -