In the Footsteps of Mr. Yeats

Did all old men and women, rich and poor,

Who trod upon these rocks or passed this door,

Whether in public or in secret rage

As I do now against old age?

But I have found an answer in those eyes

That are impatient to be gone;

Go therefore; but leave Hanrahan,

For I need all his mighty memories.

~W. B. Yeats, from The Tower

Sign in downtown Gort, County Galway

Thoor Ballylee*

We didn't need signs, we knew the way. It is down a narrow lane. We approached from a different direction this time. This time we played a little bit longer at this dangerous game, car crawling slowly down the road, passengers praying not to meet another car, or tractor, or bus.

Around a corner and there we were again at Yeats' tower - Thoor Ballylee. 

We went inside and visited once again with staffers ** who had greeted us last year. Then, once again, we climbed the winding stair, stopping to examine each level. There are nooks and crannies - what a wonderful place for hide and seek or storytelling on a dark and stormy night. Our first trip, last year, is a better documentation of each level.*** For some reason I seemed to be most focused on/fascinated by the stairs on this trip.

Eventually we breached the battlements and gazed across the countryside before returning below for a cup of tea and more chat.

The tower along the bank of the Streamstown River.

The waters of the Streamstown are the color of a long-steeped tea. Is it tannin stain from local flora?

Marks on the tower give witness to the height of flood waters.

A view of the bridge.

But at the "landings" - such as they are - there are some awkward transitions.

Windows (small and large) allow climbers to look out and see the progress being made.

It is a lovely spot.

There is talk of making the shed/building across the way into a "writer's retreat."

I wonder how one would use this little alcove since a bow and arrow armed guard was no longer necessary for protection.

A view out the "arrowslit."

Then we were back at it, climbing the stairs.

I thought I would do better - documenting the climb and the rooms, but I did not.

This view makes me think of an Escher drawing.

The bedroom was on the third floor.

There is a peat-fire laid, but not lit.

Looking down on the cottage

I haven't a clue what this is. It almost looks like some giant nest. I also forgot to ask, so here the photo sits with a question mark.

A chair in the corner.

DH examining a diagram of a tower house.

There were many and many ruins remain.

A little view between the "double" walls.

The last little narrow stairs...

...took us up and out onto the roof.

I think I would live up on the roof.

I tried to capture the countryside.

The clouds threatened rain most of the day...but held off and gave us this view.

Can you imagine?

Looking down on the river.

This lovely little flower that grows on walls everywhere is called Ivy-leaved Toad Flax. Really.

We found Rue growing here, as well. I do not remember seeing so much Rue as we did on this trip.

This little sweetheart is Rusty Back Fern.

All too soon we headed back downstairs to where a warm peat fire was burning and tea waited.

It looks a little scary heading back.

We took a last few looks around the property.

Cottage and tower.

Moss growing on a wall outside.

Georgie and the children stayed mainly in the cottage. I imagine there was some sneaking into the tower and running up and down the stairs, unless these were remarkably well-behaved children.

"I, the poet William Yeats, with old mill boards and sea-green slates, and smithy work from the Gort forge, restored this tower for my wife George; and may these characters remain when all is ruin once again."

The "new" bridge - it is still plenty old, but the one present when Yeats moved in was blown up by the IRA in the 1920s.****

Purple-loosestrife and other wildflowers bloomed in the fields - George always kept a vase of wildflowers on the table.

A rose bloomed in the garden

A path into the woods.

Rag Wort

We did not chant his poetry, but we did walk along some of the same lanes, up the winding stair, across Kiltartan Cross, and in the woods at Coole Park.

Kiltartan Cross

Expecting to see Rena McAllen at the Kiltartan Gregory Museum, we were surprised to find a different volunteer behind the reception desk. A regaled us with more stories of the old school (how she lived next door and climbed over the wall at 3 1/2 - ready to start school). We took our time as we looked at the amazing collection of materials relating to the Gregory family, Mr. Yeats, and others (many who who had attended the school). It is an eclectic mix of photos, maps, furniture and miscellany. The classroom appears, in some respects, as if the students had stepped outside for recess or lunch on the lawn. My ears strained for the sounds of children.

Cuala Press***** broadside of  poem translated from the Irish by Lady Gregory.

W. B. Yeats's key to the Nut Wood at Coole Park

Latin posters from long ago. I liked this "wash your hands" message.

A bit of the classroom at Kiltartan Cross.

We talked with A about our "frog adventures" and heard her story of "Swiss frog rescue." Some years ago A was part of a group of people who assisted frogs in getting across a busy highway to the water on the other side during the mating season by carrying them in buckets. I have visions of scores of people, buckets of frogs in-hand, dodging highway traffic.******


NOTES:

*https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thoor_Ballylee
https://yeatsthoorballylee.org/home/
https://www.facebook.com/yeatsthoorballylee/


**I'm not quite sure how these programs work, but employment at many public positions are temporary. One will be finishing his degree and off to an internship soon. And the other staffer - who has battled flood more than once is so efficient that she will likely be after another project soon enough.

***http://walkinthepark-padimus.blogspot.com/2016/07/day-1-on-our-own-desperately-seeking-mr.html (I did better in 2016)

****https://www.nytimes.com/2015/10/04/arts/design/the-tower-that-enchanted-yeats.html

*****http://www.yeatssociety.com/cuala-press.html

******We knew we liked her when we walked in, but soon recognized she was "one of us." [DH commented that Ireland is like Texas. "The first person to tell the story hasn't a chance." The second will always top it!]


For more on the Kiltartan Gregory Museum:

http://ladygregoryyeatstrail.com/?page_id=27