PORTUMNA PRIORY

Aerial view showing close proximity

of Castle and Priory.

Within the demesne of Portumna Castle exist, the ruins of Portumna Priory built around 1254. 

It was originally a Cistercian chapel, a sister house of the monastery at Dunbrody, Co Wexford. 

In 1426 the priory was taken over by the Dominicans when a papal indulgence was granted for its completion.

The Priory came under the patronage of the Earl of Clanricarde, de Burgo, in 1577 and contains the tomb of the Earl and his wife, although the location is unknown. 

During the Reformation the Priory was suppressed and then revived again in 1640.  

Eventually it was abandoned by the Friars when their numbers reduced to three in 1712 .  

After lying unused for fifty years Portumna Priory was taken over by the Anglican Church of Ireland until 1832 when they built their own church.

The Cloisters

 were partially restored in 1954 by the Office of Public Works.

The long shadows where monks once strolled

They stand as sentinels of a bygone age.

Under the splendid arches to the chancery window.

I felt nothing but a contemplative peacefulness as I strolled

around.

As with Portumna Castle, the ruins of the Priory are now a national monument. 

Return to Fore in Co. Westmeath

St. Benedictine Priory circa 1200

Amazing what a change of light has done

to this shot of the priory

In the foreground the pre norman structure of St Feichin's Church

pronounce Feichin as Fekkin.

The building with stone tower further up the hill is the anchorites chapel, which is an extension to the hermits cell which was occupied up until the 17th century

For further information please visit

http://www.megalithicireland.com/Fore.htm

&
http://aheronsview.blogspot.ie/2010/04/seven-wonders-of-fore.html

A Walk With A Red Cap

It being good day weather-wise and having very little to do or, to be more precise, having finished the tasks set for me by Mrs H, I decided to go for a stroll with my irascible friend Hazel (name changed to protect his real identity). He lives in the hedgerows for most of his time although he has been known to enter our home to use my computer causing me a few problems by leaving odd comments here and there on blogs and by trying to go further into the system and typing in the wrong passwords.

So I stepped across to his known sleeping place at this time of the year and found him amongst the blue flowers gently snoring away. The flash from my camera awoke him as 

I knew it would. 

Sleepily he said, 'What in ****'s name do you want ?'

'I thought you might like to go for a walk with me as it is a warm day.'

Hazel replied 'OK so, just give me a moment to wake up.'

Within the blink of a human eye Hazel was wide awake and looking for adventure. Together we went for our walk with him leading the way. 

You may well be familiar with Yeats' poem about walking with a faery hand in hand ? 

Let me assure you this is certainly not the case with Hazel and I, for as well acquainted as we are, neither he nor I would ever dream of holding hands as his skin is closer to that of an amphibian, quite cool to the touch and has a very different texture to ours.

I am sure he feels the same way about my skin as he shies away from all human contact. 

We had not walked more than two hundred yards when Hazel spotted this toadstool in the grass. He instantly decided that it would make a tasty snack so he plonked himself down giving me only a few seconds to take out my camera and take this photo which, I am sure you will agree, is a very rare shot.

With a great deal lip smacking, he devoured it within seconds as to him it was a great delicacy but very likely harmful to humans.

After his snack our journey together continued along the road uneventfully apart from Hazel jumping into the hedge every time the sound of a vehicle was heard. 

As he wisely said it would not bode well for him or me to be seen together. 

Our walk took us towards the entrance of a fine old house where Hazel stopped briefly to stroke a lantern dog 'for Luck' he told me. 

Here he is again within the meadow which his tribe have occupied for hundreds of generations or so said Hazel. To be honest I have no idea how old he is in human terms

and I would certainly not want to offend him by enquiring, for I have my own private thoughts about Themselves.

I can tell you this though, on the hillside above him is one of their cities and the field just behind him is where, on moonlit nights, they dance and make merry.

Our perambulation continued down a narrow road, a perfumed road, where the combined scents of wild honeysuckle and meadowsweet gave an aroma of honeyed toffee.

We both breathed in deeply and licked our lips. 

I could see that Hazel was just a little intoxicated as he jumped up to sit on a concrete stile and peering at the house beyond I heard him say 'I wonder if the woman of the house is baking today?' He hopped down and we continued along together in silence.

Our walk together ceased when Hazel lay down near a bed of richly scented roses saying

 'This will give you a fine picture and me a place to stay for the rest of the day.' 

So I left him and turned to head for home carrying about me a strong perfume of roses. Just as I went through our gateway, I glanced in my top pocket to see a rose head peeping out and this I gave to Mrs H.

GOOD NEIGHBOURS

These Lads are our nearest neighbours, we see them on opening the curtains in the morning and throughout the day. They are quiet unobtrusive fellows who apart from grazing the lush green pasture only raise their heads to stare at our comings and goings.


It is rumoured that they are grazing on holy ground, for there is said to have been an ancient oratory that once stood on the rise of this field. I fancy that it was long ago and probably made of wood for there is nothing to be seen now. Nothing, not even an indentation on the ground remains, just a sense of peacefulness.


Many rumours surround my old home and I was told when moving here that there was gold buried behind the cottage. What they didn't say was how far behind.
I think it would have to be many miles away, in the nearest town; although on digging once, I did find some yellowed old bones of an animal - probably of an ass.


There are of course 'the good people' who wander around just before dusk and at times they can be quite active. A bottle of whisky went missing once when we had a party that went on for two days in the back garden.
We had laid down the drink in the long grass to keep it in a place of safety away from the dancers and frolickers and there it stayed for two nights along with a bottle of cider.
In the morning only the cider remained...... 'they' know what they like best you see.