NOCTURNAL NOISES

I am generally a very good sleeper and rarely get disturbed however, there are two or three times a year when I sleep with one ear cocked up as it were. At those times this old cottage becomes alive with odd nocturnal noises and perfumes which assail the nostrils.

The front door is frequently rapped as if a visitor has arrived and would like to be to be admitted. These sounds I ignore, for who at four in the morning makes a visit without calling out to the occupier ?

The perfumes vary from that of subtle flower blossoms to those of
exotic concoctions best found in dance halls and not the sort that the country women wear or at least not daily.

Last night, or to be specific early this morning, I was roused from sleep by the sound of tip, tip tapping, as if many feet were dancing on a board and the shrill sounds of merriment. 

I arose quietly and quickly from my bed and crept rapidly along the hall and down, down the ladder to the front room to spy on the merry-makers. Unfortunately I made the mistake of switching on the light and immediately all noise stopped.

The Suspects

Note:
Dancing Boards were very common in the Irish towns-lands many years ago and were low stage like structures made of wood and situated on wide roadside verges often near crossroads for people to dance on.

FIRESIDE TALES

My blog FIRESIDE TALES contains the stories I wrote several years ago for my grandson.
They tell of an old druid and a young lad discovering the magic of nature and the nature of magic.

I doubt that I shall continue writing this series but if you enjoy reading them then perhaps the adventures will continue in your own imagination......

You can find FIRESIDE TALES on the link HERE

TRANQUILITY RULES OK

DAWN SUNRISE

County Laois in April

A brackish lake in county Clare

Healing

Coastal Waters of Clare

The Offering

The Shannon in May

A FRANCISCAN GARDEN

On a sunny May day we visit our friends who are Franciscans and after much talk in the kitchen, we walk in their garden and hear poetry being read amongst nature. I find myself captivated by what I see and take photos to share with you.

She meditates barefoot in sunshine

A floral mound

The path may be narrow but
never straight.

Wild garlic among the Bluebells

A lonely Dandelion

Sunlight Grass

Wallflowers among the weeds, don't look out of place.

The skirts of fairies perhaps ?

Even darkness has it's place

BETTY GOES ON....

BETTY

Here is Betty at 18 years young with 149,000 miles on the clock. She has just flown through the NCT (MOT) without any bother whatsoever, in fact she has never failed her road worthiness test in all the years we’ve had her.

Our Betty, named after an old aunt of mine who was a nonagenarian, is a 1998 Toyota Starlet 1330 cc and as lively now as she has always been.

Her driver now is Lady H who passed her driving test last year which is why we have a N plates front and back of the car. They will remain there for two years and indicate that the vehicle is being driven by a newly qualified driver.

Other road users and drivers of more modern cars are often surprised by her acceleration when we over take them, not that we make a habit of driving fast but the power is there when needed. We often have people stopping at the house, especially young men, wanting to know if we will sell her. Our answer is always “No” as Betty is far too useful to us.

When the back seats are folded down she becomes a mobile kennel for Toby our dog who often travels with us. He is carefully attached and restrained by the rear safety belts to prevent any injury to him, or to us, during an emergency stop.  He considers himself to be a rear seat guard dog barking at the cars behind when they get too close to us.

On sunny but windy days Betty becomes a reading room for Lady H who is always accompanied by her faithful Toby. 

Armed with a mug of tea and a book she has been known to spend an afternoon immersed in a good story surrounded by sunshine and birdsong.

Well now that Betty has clean bill of health we can look forward to sunny days and more adventures for me to tell you about.

BIRTHDAY SURPRISE

I heard a noise, the clink of the post box lid. In fact it awakened me from my slumber and I thought “There ought not to be any postal delivery it being a Saturday" even though it is my 73rd birthday.

So I quickly threw on my dressing gown went outside and opened the box and this is what I found.

Not our correct address by any means. It is though our Otherworld address known by the good-people

I turned over the envelope to see who the sender was and sure enough it was from my friends in the otherworld.

Look they even have their own postal 

service too 

The front cover of the card.

 Inside is Hazel holding a heart

On the back he is waving goodbye.

This is one of the joys of having friends in

the otherworld.

To Followers and Readers

At midnight last night Mrs H and I went out into the front garden and held hands as we danced around the garden in total darkness singing Auld Lang Syne.

So to you my Followers and Readers my appreciation for your support over the past year
 I wish you all a very happy, healthy and peaceful New Year !

So in your own different languages:

Bledhen Nowyth Da!

Blwyddyn Newydd Dda

" S Novim Godom “

Bonne année !

Athbhliain faoi chaise duit

 Bliadhna Mhath Ùr

Happy New Year

Frohes knees Jahr

Gelukkig nieuwjaar

Onnellista gutta vuotta

Eutychismenos o kainourgios chronos

Szczesliwego Nowego Roku

Feliz año nuevo

La Multi Ani si Un An Nou Fericit

Felix sit annus nous

Boldog uj evet

Manigong Bagong Taon

Akemashite Omedetou Gozaimasu

Sawatdee Pi Mai

Kul 'am wa ant bikhair

Urte Berri on

An Adventurer Returns

I often hear nocturnal noises that are beyond the sleeping room, as if my ears are parked behind the door and so the other night I was awoken in the early hours by a shrill noise coming from the front garden.  As I became fully conscious I heard a scratching at the front door followed by a thump and then low snores.


I awoke her Ladyship to tell her what I had heard, together we opened the front door and peered out. Her Ladyship on seeing the sight that was before us, said

“I think I’ll get the camera, this is worth recording!”

A very relaxed Hazel

After she had taken the photo I very carefully picked him up and brought him into the warmth of our home.

“Well, Hazel what have you been up to ?” I asked him the following morning.

After a moment he spoke …

“ I was so thrilled to get a new suit of clothes that I took myself off to the river to bathe. While I was there the water sprites told me there was to be hurling match at Sheean, between our lads and the Redcaps from Cornwall, followed by a Ceilidh.

So I crept home, put on me gear and went up to the match. It was a fierce do altogether, for the hurls of both sides were flailing like swords at a battle and it was more than the puc (ball) that was the target!
On they went up and down pitch, as one player was flailed, another took his place. I kept meself well to the rear, the last thing I wanted was to ruin me new clothes. Then all of a sudden a cock crowed and the game stopped.

I interrupted Hazel to ask him “ Who won the match ? ”

“ I knew you would ask that. Nobody won the match. You see for us it is all about playing the game which is important - not winning or losing”  he replied.

Then Hazel continued his story.

The Faery Mound Sheean

“We all went down under the rath for the ceilidh. It was some party, the fiddlers started first and later we danced jigs and reels. Then pipers and bodhran players  started up. When they rested singers, chanters and poets took over. There was plenty of food with gallons of whisky for all. Too soon it was time for the Cornish to return home. As I stood, I tripped and fell on the ley line, only to awake up inside a much larger rath!
There was another party going on but I said to myself “ never mind, I’m with friends.” So I carried on enjoying meself.


I was dancing away with my lively companions, when one of them said “Why hello Hazel, my darling, it’s so good to see you again after all these years. You do remember me don’t you ? I’m Parsley.”

Well, she had caught me on the hop. I scratched me old head trying to recall who Parsley was … then the penny dropped.
“Ah Parsley yes of course, how could I ever forget you?”

“It’s well for you that you have returned Hazel.
I think now is the time for you to take your responsibility seriously”
replied Parsley.

Hazel at The Hurler Stones, Cornwall

“After a few days of partying in the Hurlers’ Rath I decided that it was time to return to Ireland and that a slower journey would be better. So meself and Parsley made our way over to Boscastle where we used a slow, little used ley line over to Lundy Island. There we met with old friends and it was on the island that I took up my responsibility. Parsley and I finally said our goodbyes and I returned home.”

“So” finished Hazel, taking a deep breath, “here we are.”

I said “Pardon me, Hazel, you said ‘We’. So who else is with you ?”

Hazel went to the widow and pointed to the garden as we peered out.

“ That is my daughter Catkin ” he said proudly.

Catkin

Hazel's New Clothes

For some time now her Ladyship and myself have been dropping hints to Hazel about his unkempt appearance and how we thought it was about time he paid a visit to the gypsy tailor for a new outfit. Of course he ignored the hints and carried on wearing his favourite, grubby but comfortable, old clothes.

Now one morning this week, when we awoke, Hazel was nowhere to be found, except for  a pile of discarded clothes laying on the floor. Of the man himself there was no sight nor sound, he had simply vanished into thin air.

Her Ladyship grabbed hold of his clothes and holding them with outstretched arms away from her nose, put them into the washing tub and cast  a magic spell over them.

I am not privy to her secret work and so I can only share with you that part of her chant

that I heard as I walked away it had something to do with ‘hubble, bubble, soaps and suds’.

About half an hour later I noticed that a Blackbird was flying to and fro between the washing tub and the drying line. Slowly a line of Hazel’s old clothes, now freshly washed, 

appeared before my very eyes. Soon after that is started spit with rain, within minutes there was a great storm lashing down and I heard her Ladyship say to no one in particular

"Hazel’s clothes will never dry now!”

I thought it best to make tea and soon the kettle was fair skipping on the stove. I threw three large spoonfuls of Lyon’s loose tea into the teapot and poured a pint of boiling water over them, putting the pot on the edge of the stove to let it draw. Her Ladyship does like a good strong cuppa along with a dash of milk and no sugar in her favourite cup.

I thought to myself "This will soothe her frayed nerves”

We were just on the point of finishing our afternoon tea and eating up the last of the caraway seed cake when her Ladyship said “Oh did you hear someone singing just then ?”

 “ Do you think it might be Hazel coming home ?” I replied.

So we both went to the window to look out and there was a very smart looking Hazel dressed in a new set of clothes complete with a waistcoat, muffler, a new hat and boots to match.

“Oh welcome home Mr Hazel and my goodness you certainly look smart!” cried her Ladyship.

As Hazel preened in front of the mirror I complimented him on his new look and asked, “Why the change of heart about the new outfit?” 

 “I have it in mind to find myself a wife” whispered Hazel. 

Then with a smile and a wink he disappeared.

We are getting worried now because Hazel has still not returned home !

A Witch in Training

Over the Hallowe'en weekend Lady H quietly disclosed a secret to me.

It appears that Granny has discovered that Ollie, despite his tender age,

is developing certain family traits.

As you may be aware

Lady H, especially when wearing the appropriate costume,

displays certain magical abilities.

Here she can be seen hovering above the ground.

Young Ollie is now learning his craft.

Calling on the local Faeries to lend their assistance....

and help Granny sprinkle her magic dust.

Lady H tells me that Ollie is a natural

and I say ' yes, but he'll have to loose that skeleton costume.'

Hare today.....

 Haring along the road

We left home this morning to travel to a nearby town to do some messages for Mrs H.  Within a couple of hundred yards from home we met this fellow running along the road just in front of the car. Very quickly I grabbed the camera whilst Mrs H continued driving. I pointed and clicked not knowing exactly how the photo would turn out. 

Eventually Mr Hare made a sharp right turn and ducked under the bottom of some wrought iron entrance gates and up someones driveway. A good decision by him for a minute later we met a large tractor coming towards us.

Of all the Game that there is to be had I have never eaten hare and doubt that I ever will. 

The reason is that within my pagan tradition The Hare is seen as a shape shifter and might  be the incarnation of a dead friend. 

Some of you may very well be inclined to eat a hare so here is a recipe for Jugged Hare, so called so because the chefs of old would cook the skinned and jointed hare in a jug. Today a casserole will suffice.

Hare on plate

Ingredients:

• 1 hare. 

• 1 teaspoon of vinegar. 

• Olive oil. 

• Seasoned flour. 

• Game stock. 

• 1 onion, studded with cloves. 

• Bunch of thyme, marjoram & parsley. 

• 1 bay leaf. 

• Pinch of nutmeg. 

• Pinch of mace. 

• 2 tblsp redcurrant jelly. 

• 150ml (5floz) port or claret. 

• Salt & pepper. 

Method: 

• Preheat the oven to 180°C/350°F/gas mark 4. 

• Joint the hare, saving the blood & liver. 

• Mix the blood with the vinegar to prevent it congealing. 

• Heat some oil in a pan, dust the hare pieces with seasoned flour and brown them in the oil. 

• Transfer to an ovenproof dish and pour over the stock to cover. 

• Add the onion, herbs and spices. 

• Cover tightly and place in the oven for about 3 hours. 

• Strain the liquid into a pan and return it to the boil. 

• Add the redcurrant jelly. 

• Pour a little liquid into the blood and stir until smooth. 

• Add the blood to the gravy and cook to thicken, but do not boil. 

• Add the wine and season to taste. 

• Arrange the meat on a dish and pour over the sauce.

Roaming Red Caps

As mentioned by Harlow in a comment on the previous blog post. Red Caps can be found in many other countries other than Ireland. They relocate along with their human companions and maintain their fine traditions by keeping the same dress code and customs.

Harald and Freda in Dorset, England.

Now, here is a good example of a Darby and Joan type who have been partners since the beginning of time. They are Harald and Freda. The latter is responsible for ensuring that her relations are all well dressed and because of this I received a message from her meant for Hazel. I will share it with you all and ask that you pass it on, just in case you meet up with him first. 

"They, Harald and Freda, really enjoyed his adventures and are glad he is getting on so well in Ireland. However Freda is a little concerned that Hazel is a bit tipsy as his hat is rather crooked in several photos. She says she will make a nice new warm felt one for the winter."

***

We move now to a Spa town set in the heartlands of the English countryside to meet Thorn who is Hazel's learned brother.

Thorn relaxing.

Thorn's speciality is keeping the young humans entertained and assisting them in their education. The knowledge that they acquire from him is very different to that of normal human education.

Thorn demonstrating the uses of the trampoline which he says can lead 

to flights of another kind and magical realms, 

depending upon intuitive capabilities of the student.

Tractor driving is not one of Thorn's ideal pursuits, 

as can be seen by the fearful look on his face, 

it is however a favourite with his pupil who has been enamoured with tractors ever

 since driving a Massey-Fergusson on his holidays in Ireland.

Here the learned Thorn excels at chalking the alphabet and numbers

in an effort to assist his pupil in the arts of literacy and numerics.

Balance in all things says Thorn!

"If only the young fellow would stay abed more

often I would get time off to go visiting

my friends who live in the local parks."

As you can see in the photos these small creatures get around so don't be surprised if you spot a small red cap bobbing through the grass near you! 

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.