Friday, October 06, 2006

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Visiting Nana.......we are blessed that the graveyard my Mother [and brother and nephew] are buried in is a mile up the Lane from our home. I have always gained such a sense of peace from graveyards and the children and I visit this one often. We sometimes like to walk through the oldest section and try to read the stones. Some of them are over 200 years old. We read their names and try to imagine their lives. It is also a great way to reinforce math skills and the children and quickly work out the math and find the age at which the person on the headstone was at the time of their death, based on the year of the birth and the year of their death.

This is Emma Sage and her cousin Rori visiting on the last day the 'Irish' were here before they headed back home. The easiness of these two reminded me of the beauty of childhood............and that life is truly precious.

6 comments:

Betsy said...

We had a graveyard about a mile from where I grew up, and my cousins and I used to go there often--just as your children do.

It never occured to us to be disrespectful or to play in it - we were so fascinated by the stones, and had every section of it nearly memorized.

As a child, it was fascinating to see a grave of someone buried a hundred years before, or to wonder what happened to the family who had 4 little "lamb" stones of babies that only lived for a few days.

I think this is part of my love of "everyone has a story" -- I love old houses, and have paid way too much for old dishes or old quilts at an estate auction, because my mind can weave a fabulous tale of the family that ate from those dishes, or the grandma who spend hours sewing that quilt for her family.

Tara Marie said...

Betsy,,,,,it always amazes me how very similar the two of us are.....and if it weren't for the beautiful gift of an extra chromosome, our paths most likely would have never met. What a blessing T21 is!!!

I too collect [and can never get rid of anything that some one dear gave to me]. I cherish items that I know were cherished by those who made them or used them many years before they came into my hands. I hope that my children will cherish the items I pass down to them.

I have a picture of Emma Sage by one such lamb stone, and like you, I always quietly cried for the parents that lost little ones way too soon.

We are heading to a family gathering today at my grandparents old farmstead......should be so much fun and I know will be filled with many, many memories of my Mother and Grandfather.

Have a glorious day my friend....and Thank you!!!

Jeanne said...

Your pictures are beautiful.
I too was at my MOm's grave yesterday.
I brought her fresh flowers and little pumpkins and sent prayers up to Heaven for her and my blessed late Sister Sharon and all my loved ones in Heaven.
Our eternal life in Heaven will once again be a reunion of love.
Love you
Jeanne

Cousin Karen said...

Hi Tara,

What a beautiful picture of Emma and Rori. We made it back home to Ireland safely. You're mam's friend Ann Barrett called this evening and we had a nice ( but teary) time reminiscing.

We have listened to your cd, it's wonderful. I was delighted to hear one of my favourite songs ' the Isle of inisfree'on it. I fell in love with that song when I first heard Maureen O'Hara sing it in 'The Quiet Man'. Also mam said her father used to sing 'she moved through the fair' all the time.
So we will treasure this cd.

I translated song number 8 for you. Only the chorus is in Irish but here are all the words:

'Siuil, siuil, siul a run,
Siuil go sochair agus siuil go ciuin
Siuil go doras agus ealaigh liom

[Translation
Walk, Walk, Walk O love,
Walk calmly and walk
quietly
Walk to the door and escape with me]

Siuil, siuil, siul a run,
Siuil go sochair agus siuil go ciuin
Siuil go doras agus ealaigh liom
Is go dte tu mo mhuirnin slan

[Translation
Walk, Walk, Walk O love,
Walk calmly and walk
quietly
Walk to the door and escape with me
and safe may my darling be]

I wish I was on yonder hill
'Tis there I'd sit and cry my fill,
’til every tear would turn a mill,

I'll sell my rock, I'll sell my reel,
I'll sell my only spinning wheel,
To buy my love a sword of steel

Siuil, siuil, siul a run,
Siuil go sochair agus siuil go ciuin
Siuil go doras agus ealaigh liom
Is go dte tu mo mhuirnin slan

[Translation
Walk, Walk, Walk O love,
Walk calmly and walk
quietly
Walk to the door and escape with me
and safe may my darling be]

I'll dye my petticoats, I'll dye them red,
And 'round the world I'll beg my bread,
Until my parents shall wish me dead,

Siuil, siuil, siul a run,
Siuil go sochair agus siuil go ciuin
Siuil go doras agus ealaigh liom
Is go dte tu mo mhuirnin slan

[Translation
Walk, Walk, Walk O love,
Walk calmly and walk
quietly
Walk to the door and escape with me
and safe may my darling be]

Siuil, siuil, siul a run,
Siuil go sochair agus siuil go ciuin
Siuil go doras agus ealaigh liom
[Translation
Walk, Walk, Walk O love,
Walk calmly and walk
quietly
Walk to the door and escape
with me]

Siuil, siuil, siul a run,
Siuil go sochair agus siuil go ciuin
Siuil go doras agus ealaigh liom
Is go dte tu mo mhuirnin slan

[Translation
Walk, Walk, Walk O love,
Walk calmly and walk
quietly
Walk to the door and escape with me
and safe may my darling be]
...............................
Here are also two poems that bring our beloved Philly to my mind, both by irish poets:

Any Woman
by Katherine Tynan Hinkson

I am the pillars of the house;
The keystone of the arch am I.
Take me away, and roof and wall
Would fall to ruin me utterly.

I am the fire upon the hearth,
I am the light of the good sun,
I am the heat that warms the earth,
Which else were colder than a stone.

At me the children warm their hands;
I am their light of love alive.
Without me cold the hearthstone stands,
Nor could the precious children thrive.

I am the twist that holds together
The children in its sacred ring,
Their knot of love, from whose close tether
No lost child goes a-wandering.

I am the house from floor to roof,
I deck the walls, the board I spread;
I spin the curtains, warp and woof,
And shake the down to be their bed.

I am their wall against all danger,
Their door against the wind and snow,
Thou Whom a woman laid in a manger,
Take me not till the children grow!
................................
Patrick Kavanagh 'In memory of my mother'

"I do not think of you lying in the wet clay
Of a Monaghan graveyard; I see
You walking down a lane among the poplars
On your way to the station, or happily
Going to second Mass on a summer Sunday -
You meet me and you say:
'Don't forget to see about the cattle - '
Among your earthiest words the angels stray.

And I think of you walking along a headland
Of green oats in June,
So full of repose, so rich with life -
And I see us meeting at the end of a town
On a fair day by accident, after
The bargains are all made and we can walk
Together through the shops and stalls and markets
Free in the oriental streets of thought.

O you are not lying in the wet clay,
For it is a harvest evening now and we
Are piling up the ricks against the moonlight
And you smile up at us - eternally.

...........................
And finaly some Irish blessings:

May you see God's light on the path ahead
When the road you walk is dark.
May you always hear,
Even in your hour of sorrow,
The gentle singing of the lark.

When times are hard may hardness
Not turn your heart to stone,
And may you always remember
You do not walk alone.

.......................


May God give you...
For every storm, a rainbow,
For every tear, a smile,
For every care, a promise,
And a blessing in each trial.
For every problem life sends,
A faithful friend to share,
For every sigh, a sweet song,
And an answer for each prayer.

................................

Sorry for such a long post. Remember if you need anything at all, let us know, we are only a phone call away.

Love to all

Karen

Rebecca said...

What a beautiful capture.

Miranda said...

Once Again....what a Beautiful Picture. I too am Amazed by Graveyards especcialy old ones.