When my husband Larry and I retired we threw caution to the winds and bought ourselves a beautiful blue and white Freeman 27 cabin cruiser. I was beside myself with excitement as we paid our money and shook on the deal. Our friends drove us to Portaneena marina in Athlone where we boarded Aishlinn for
She stretched her wings and descended to a stony bank at the foot of the cascade in the middle of the shallow late April flow. It was approaching sunset. A solitary human sat on a rock with his laptop open. Ducklings, startled by the commotion, paddled downstream, emitting staccato shrieks to alert their parents who
I grew up not more than a hundred feet from the Conoboro Bridge, which spanned the River Erkina. My life is dotted with memories of the river, a river whose banks I’ve walked hundreds of times, a river whose trout I’ve caught for competitions and sport, a river with its own history and each individual
Many years ago a monk named Floinn lived at the foot of Stacks Mountain. There were oak woods and wolves, ringforts and rivers. Down the mountain came the water. Overhead, eagles flew and in the undergrowth the blackbird and the wren sang. Floinn grew old, and blind. A life of prayer gave him patience and
Riverdance. Where does that word take us? The O2 arena? possibly. No doubt it would be Bill Whelan’s stunning classic that was first performed in 1994 during the interval of the Eurovision Song Contest springs to mind. That however is not the riverdance that filled me with wonder and fascination; the one that I am
The Duff River in County Sligo was one of my favourite places to spend many leisurely hours. Its blackened water results in great measure from the prevalence of this boggy land. My father and our neighbour Tom Gallagher would come here often to fly fish for trout, or if lucky perhaps a salmon. Tom always
The River Shannon has been described as majestic and mighty, which it is, but to me it is an old friend. I find the water healing and consoling. I talk to it every day and I tell it things I wouldn’t tell another soul. I love to watch, as birds swoop and call to each
Once, a long time ago my friend came to my house to play and we went to the River Mourne close to where I live. We came to a meadow that had a sandy place with cobbles near the river and we sat down to eat our lunch. Suddenly I saw a grey thing on
What lovely childhood memories I possess of the river that flowed at the edge of our farm. During the late forties and early fifties my curiosity about the river was never ending. The Clare, rose north of Ballyhaunis, meandered through Mayo and Galway, entering the Corrib at Annaghdown. My river was the centre of our
The lowest reaches of The Dodder River achievable are on the pedestrian walkway leading up to the busy and noisy hump of Ringsend Bridge, I’ve spotted pods of mullet here sifting through the languid still water and just recently four swans flying abreast down river their combined wingspan almost covering the water expanse bank to
I gaze out my village window at the rippling waves of grey-green luminescence that carry the ocean tide into Roundstone Bay. The witnessing of these daily tides takes on a greater importance now in this time of Corona virus lockdown. The repetitive daily cycles, governed by the moon and the ceaseless spinning of our planet,
The minnows sparkled below the threads of wet sunlight. Too fast for me to catch. Wading through the water, so cold despite the warm June weather; water straight from the Blackstairs; cool, and clean, and pure. The straight monolithic bridge cut across the curving of the stream, and the weeds, and the trees. This, the