A Light from the Shadows

All that is gold does not glitter,

Not all those who wander are lost;

The old that is strong does not wither,

Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

From the ashes, a fire shall be woken,

A light from the shadows shall spring;

Renewed shall be blade that was broken,

The crownless again shall be king.

~J.R.R. Tolkien, The Riddle of Strider 

We have wandered for three weeks. It was a glorious and mad adventure. Even this late in the summer/early in the fall wildflowers lined the lanes. Blackberries were ripening almost everywhere providing food for the birds (and us).

Brambles/blackberries - only eat the berries that were ready to fall off or you will get a mouthful of tartness.

Mallow petals caught the light rain along the River Suir in Cahir

Birds sang to us each day - even those drizzly and windy days we knew we would experience and did.

A cheeky little robin sang from a rock wall on Inisheer (or, in the Irish, Inis Oírr), the smallest of the Aran Islands.

Musicians blessed us.

Omna Singers at the opening of the Shorelines Arts Festival. This is a community chorus.

Poets stunned and enlightened us.

Spirits surrounded us and people embraced us.

Wonderful and magical things happened (as they do in this ancient place).

One member of a pair of Mute Swans near Cahir Castle, County Tipperary.

What is it about this country that so heals the heart and soul? It is all of these things and more that fed us, comforted us, and gave us welcome and shelter.

Killilagh Churchyard - waiting for sunrise.

Our stories will be shared over the next few weeks - here and in our homes and in our regular breakfast haunt. One thing we can say - Ireland is a rich dish served with warmth and a slice of brown bread.

One of the few photos taken before the meal was half-consumed.

A Visit to St. Patrick's Well (Time for Morning Prayers)

As I arise today,
may the strength of God pilot me,
the power of God uphold me,
the wisdom of God guide me.
May the eye of God look before me,
the ear of God hear me,
the word of God speak for me.
May the hand of God protect me,
the way of God lie before me.

~ Saint Patrick, from his Lorica 

Springs bubble up and fill the large pool. Water cascades down into the creek nearby and thence on to the River Suir. It is a quiet place. People come throughout the day for prayer, for peace.

It would be easy to miss the sign pointing the way - off the national road and down a narrow lane. There is only room for one or two cars to park along the rock wall. 

Stop. 

Take a moment. 

Come down to the well.

The opening in the woods invited.

Beautiful green moss and ferns graced the rock wall.

The toadflax still bloomed.

New growth from a Hart's Tongue fern showed the summer drought over.

The rustling leaves whispered - come down.

The woods are cool and green and peaceful.

What hides in these woods?

Ignore the side trails and continue down the stairs.

The pool awaits.

Even now, in early fall, wildflowers peered out from the sides of the rock walls and the edges of the paths. Small creatures wandered.

Hairy Bittercress

Herb Robert, a wild geranium bloomed all over.

Stinging Nettle - don't touch.

Bird's-eye Speedwell

Maidenhair Spleenwort lined the well.

Common Hawthorn showed its fruit.

Birds sang and hid in the woods, but one wagtail assumed pride of place on the top of the cross before flying away.

A bird on the cross.

A Grey Wagtail

It moved back and forth surveying the area.

After a pose or two...

...he looked back...and was gone.

While repaired, updated, and less wild, St. Patrick's Well remains a place of pilgrimage and prayer.

The grotto with the Statue of St. Patrick is close to the foot of the stairs.

It is surrounded by the gifts of the faithful - candles, many rosaries, prayers, and (rather oddly) socks. The socks had been tied to the nearby foliage. [Did people forget to bring something else?]

The wall is marked with numbers for  making the way of the cross or prayer circuits...

...and memorials. [In Remembrance of Harry (Bud) Kelley 1932 - 2010  A Friend of Clonmel and St Patrick's Well]

The old church, while a ruin, has been stabilized/rebuilt and contains pieces of church structures now destroyed.

Through the door one can see a statue of the Infant of Prague (I think) and a crypt.

As at many shrines, the statue is draped in rosaries and scapulars.

VM stopped at the well.

Morning sun through the trees

A glacial erratic rests in the field beyond the rock wall.

Beyond the well site the holy waters rushed towards the river.

All too soon the pilgrim must climb the stair - and return to the world above.

NOTES:

--- "How did you know about that place?" asked our landlady. "The brown sign," replied VM. "Actually, we found it a year ago when staying in Clonmel," I said. 

--- It is a lovely place and reminds me that there are places here - in my neighborhood - where I could take a few moments out of my day for contemplation. Don't we all need just a few such moments each day?

--- Historical Details (really some lovely, well-researched information about this site: 

    http://irelandsholywells.blogspot.com/2012/06/saint-patricks-well-clonmel.html

    https://pilgrimagemedievalireland.com/2014/04/12/st-patricks-holy-well-at-marlfield-clonmel/  [I learn something new with each visit. I had not seen the photos of the well "before modern meddling." I actually like it a bit better in its former state - with the ash tree growing alongside. but it is an easier visit for pilgrims in its current state.]

    https://pilgrimagemedievalireland.com/2016/03/16/a-cure-at-st-patricks-holy-well-clonmel-in-1913/

--- While beautiful and loved, some cannot do other than leave their mark. Just beyond the surrounding wall someone had dumped a load of trash.

Final Note -- Warning -- Spiders live here too!

A spiderweb in a spot on the wall.

European Harvestman (not really a spider, but I am erring on the side of caution of my spider-phobic friends.