Eco-Adventures in West Cork with a touch of Dúchas

An Mascallacht - The Great Masking of West Cork

Sun, 19 Oct 2025 14:29:01 GMT

Long before trick-or-treating, there was An Mascallacht

Growing up in West Cork, we didn't have pumpkins or get bags of sweets, but we did have something far older, a ritual of disguise, of mischief, of stepping across the threshold between the living and the otherworld on Oíche Shamhna / Halloween .

When darkness fell in my local village of Castletownshend, neighbours and children alike would transform themselves. Faces were blackened with soot, cereal boxes were turned into masks, old coats turned inside out, and voices disguised beyond recognition.

This was the An Mascallacht (some spell it without the t) lit. "the great masking", on a night when no one was quite who they seemed, and when our world and the "other crowds" came together.

As kids we would move from house to house in small, shadowy groups, chanting, rhyming, and calling for hospitality, normally a few coins dropped into our tin can, but Barbara Vickery the American lady who lived in Bow Hall used to serve us delicious brownies (this was in a an era when brownies were an unknown quantity here in West Cork). My grandfathers generation used to get few handfuls of potatoes from the clamp!

But there was more to it than simply begging for few coins. The masks carried magic, protection even, and to refuse the masked ones at the door was to invite the mí-adh or ill luck for the year ahead and the possibility of mischief befalling your family. Gates would be takes off their hinges and be found hanging from the nearest tree. Donkeys would be untacked, their carts disassembled and it would all be reassembled in someones kitchen (including the donkey being reattached to the cart) while they were out of the house.

The version we keep alive on our A Scare at Samhain experience draws on this old tradition I grew up with, the rhythm of its words, the pulse of its mischief, and the power of its performance. It’s a living echo of the wild West Cork nights when stories were currency, and fear and laughter shared the same breath.

For those who are interested here is the ancient Irish language chant we used to recciet at the doorsteps back in the 70's. While we also had an English language verse, it was clearly a version written for the big houses in the village in the late 19th century and was described in the schools collection as "some English doggrel". Last year, I penned a new English verse with Irish words that is more in keeping with the authentic lore of Samhain. I hope you enjoy it and even better if you use it over Halloween.

An Mascallacht

Ahem! Ahem! Anocht Oíche Shamhna
Cuir muc in ár measc, cuir muc d'ár gabhla,
Cuir leic ar líon, cuir líon ar leic
Cuir sop ins na fuinneoga
Cuir clár ins na sióga.

We dance in the shadows, as Tonn Chlíodhna roars,
The bean sí wails where Beann tSídheáin soars.
Beware the gan ceann on his horse of dread,
No head on his neck, look up and you’re dead!
The ollphéist stirs in the depths of the loch,
While the síofra waits, watching the clock,
Light the blessed candle, keep iron & dirt by the door,
Lest they come for you, when Samhain’s winds roar!

Fanaigí ciúin, faoi scáil na spéir
Tá siad ag teacht!
Olagón! Mo léir!

These words are both playful and haunting, and roote d in dúchas, that deep sense of place that ties us to the land and its stories. In these words, the spirits of Samhain still stir: Clíodhna, very much associated with Glandore and often given as queen of the Mná Sí; the restless gan cheann / the headless horseman who rides towards midnight Mass on Cnoc Droma near Castletownshend; the lurking ollphéist; and the watchful síofra biding its time.

To mask oneself was to acknowledge the wildness that lingers at the edges of our world. So this Samhain, as the wind moans over Cuan Dor and the scarecrows of An Léim / Leap nod in the dark, remember An Mascallacht was never just about disguise. It was about balancing our christian world view with a much older pagan belief system. About facing the darkness with laughter, and meeting the otherworld halfway.

Happy Halloween to all our readers.

Is Nollaig na mBan the end of Christmas in Ireland

Wed, 08 Jan 2025 22:29:16 GMT

or does it last all the way 'til Candlemas in February?

In Ireland, the Christmas season stretches far beyond December 25th. It’s a time steeped in tradition and rhythm, encompassing Nollaig na mBan on January 6th and, in earlier times, extending all the way to Lá Fhéile Muire na gCoinneal / Candlemas on February 2nd, the day after Lá Fhéile Bríde, the traditional first day of spring. For our family, this long stretch of celebration feels even more personal: our middle daughter, Aoife, bookends the season with her Christmas Day birthday, while our youngest, Áine, brings it to a joyful close with her Candlemas Day birthday.

This slower rhythm of celebration reflects a deeper connection to the seasons and traditions that shape our lives. It’s a time steeped in tradition, memory, and meaning that carries us well into the new year. As we will gradually pack away our decorations during the month January there are lovely spaces to reflect on the fullness of this time, its stories, and its significance—from Nollaig na mBan to Candlemas, and even to moments that feel deeply personal in our own family.

This sense of community and tradition is something we also try to share with others through our #12WalksforChristmas— An Dá Shiúlóid Déag na Nollaig —which we run each year. These walks take place in beautiful locations around West Cork, bringing people together to enjoy the festive season and support local charities. Every cent raised goes directly to those in need locally, making it a meaningful way for us all to give back while soaking up the magic of Christmas with our friends and our guests.

Growing up here in West Cork, I learned not to be in a rush to put up or take down the Christmas tree. In our home, we didn’t put up the tree until after the 8th of December, which traditionally marked the beginning of the season in rural Ireland.

Locally, the piseóg held that it was considered bad luck to take down Christmas decorations before the 7th of January at the very earliest. This belief tied into the tradition of Nollaig na mBan on January 6th, also known as Women’s Christmas or Little Christmas. Deeply rooted in Cork’s culture, this was a day when women gathered to celebrate the end of the Christmas season. Sharing drinks, treats, and stories, it was their well-earned moment to relax after the hard work of hosting and feeding the household. This tradition added cultural weight to leaving the tree up for the women’s celebration, making it a meaningful way to honour the season.

But, for me, the season doesn’t fully close with Nollaig na mBan. Candlemas Day on February 2nd—La Fhéile Muire na gCoinnle in Irish—feels like the real end of the story. Coming just after Lá Fhéile Bríde, the traditional first day of spring in Ireland, it’s a day that ties the threads of Christmas to spring, marking the Christian Feast of the Presentation of Christ in the Temple. Our local priest, Fr Bernard, often reminds us that Candlemas is the true end of Christmas, so there’s no need to rush into #DryJanuary or fad diets just yet. Instead, it’s a chance to ease into the new year with the same warmth and reflection that carried us through the festive season. Symbolically, it’s the moment when the last echoes of the Christmas story give way to the hope of longer days and new beginnings for the year ahead.

In our family, Candlemas holds a particularly special place. Our youngest daughter, Áine, was born on Candlemas Day, bringing a beautiful sense of renewal and light to the end of the season. It’s a day that feels both sacred and personal, a moment when we take stock of all the joy Christmas brought and look forward to what’s ahead. It’s impossible to let Candlemas pass unnoticed, especially when it’s paired with the laughter and excitement of celebrating Áine’s birthday.

Equally, Christmas Day itself has a glow of its own in our home, as it’s the birthday of our eldest daughter, Aoife. For her, the house fills with the dual joy of celebrating her life and the gift of Christmas itself. It’s these personal connections that remind me that the season’s spirit is much more than the dates on a calendar; it’s about the stories we carry and share.

That said, it’s hard not to feel frustrated with the way the commercial Christmas now seems to dominate the calendar. From the moment Halloween ends, shops bombard us with tinsel, jingles, and flashing lights. It feels like the deeper meaning of the season gets lost in the rush to buy and consume. By the time December 25th arrives, many people are already tired of Christmas, having celebrated it since early November.

Yet, here in Ireland, our traditions remind us that Christmas isn’t about rushing to the finish line—it’s about the quiet unfolding of joy, from Advent all the way through to at least Nollaig na mBan and for some all the way to Candlemas, with space to reflect and savour each part of the journey. here in West Cork, many of us still honour these traditions in small ways. Decorations often stay up much longer than they might elsewhere, holding onto the light and colour of Christmas as we weather the darkest weeks of the year. It’s as if we’re reluctant to let the magic fade too soon, and I think there’s wisdom in that.

As we will slowly pack away the last of the baubles and take one final look at the tree this month, I will think of the glow it brought to our home over the past weeks. The stories, the laughter, and even the quiet moments by its light have all left their mark. Christmas may be over, but its spirit lingers on—through Nollaig na mBan, all the way to Candlemas, and through the memories that brighten the winter darkness.

To all who have shared in this season with us, go raibh maith agaibh. Let’s carry the warmth and light of Christmas into 2025—and if anyone gives you grief about leaving the decorations up, just tell them Conor and Elizabeth II said you’ve got until Áine’s birthday on Candlemas, February 2nd till you have to take them down!

An Caisearbhán Bitter Feet with a Lions Teeth

Thu, 11 May 2023 17:30:19 GMT

or the Ecclesiastical Bedwetting bloom?

Today, I'm going to explore one of the most underrated but genuinely enchanting plants in the West Cork countryside – an caisearbhán or the dandelion. These hardy and prolific wildflowers can be found all over Ireland, thriving in various habitats, from roadside ditches and fields to parks and gardens. Their unmistakable yellow flowers, downy seed-heads, and familiar toothed leaves greet us from early spring to late autumn.

Of course variants of this plant are found on all continents except Antartica but in early spring some fields locally are just a sea of yellow with our local sub-species.

What's in a name

There are many, many names for this plant. For the rest of this post, I am going to use the local name caisearbhán pronounced "cash-er-vawn." It originates from the words cais (cois), meaning foot, and searbhán meaning bitter, an apt description considering their deeply rooted and bitter-tasting leaves.

Locally and around Ireland we have many other names in both Irish and English including pish-the-bed, clocks, monks head, pisterbed, bearnán beárnach and bláth buí. While officially called Taraxacum vulgaria other names around Europe include;

B eàrnan-Brìde , in Scotland, the flower is linked with St. Brigid and is called beàrnan-Brìde which I believe means the small gap of Brigid
Dandelions take their English name from the Norman French dent-de-leon, or lion’s teeth, referring to the toothed edges of the leaves.
The French and Luxembourgers both go with variants of pee in bed and piss-a-bed which was also a name we used here in West Cork.

The Russians and Belarusians go with variants of blow and there are countless childrens games involving blowing the seed heads.
In Romania, Czechia and Slovakia we see variants of priest as the seed head was supposed to resemble a priests tonsured head.

Taraxacum and it's health benefits

Some say the scientific name Taraxacum is derived from the Greek words Taraxos, meaning disorder, and akos, meaning remedy but there are other accounts that dispute this etymology. Certainly in the past, dandelions were widely used in Ireland to treat various ailments, including liver complaints, upset stomach, bilious disorders, dropsy, dizziness, gallstones, jaundice, hemorrhoids, and warts.

When I was a garsún, we were told that the latex sap from their stems was the cure for warts. A trawl through our amazing Folklore collection throws up over 2,500's of pages of content about this plant, many list its uses as a food for both animals and humans. A recurring theme is as a cure for rheumatism but as this snippet from Carrigaline shows, it also was used as a blood thinner and for liver complaints.

The caisearbhán is far from the useless weed many people dismiss it for. It is an underrated, successful plant that plays an important role in nature and has many useful properties that people have exploited through the ages and continue to make use of to this day.

Jazzing up your salads

I first came across the idea of using the leaves as a salad green about 20 years ago when reading The Kitchen Gardner by Alan Titchmarsh. Personally, I find them on the bitter side but I do occasionally stick a few leaves from my garden into a ham sandwich. I find they cut across the sweetness of ham nicely.

It is said that blanched young caisearbhán leaves make an excellent salad and can also be used as a green vegetable. Dried leaves are a common ingredient in many digestive and herbal drinks and are used for making herb-beer, including a dandelion stout.

The flowers can be made into dandelion wine, which has a reputation as an excellent tonic, and the dried roots, when roasted and ground, make an effective substitute for coffee.

Let them grow

Mo léir, this plant is way too resilient to succumb to our repeated attempts at botanical genocide and thankfully we now see #NoMowMay trending on social media each year.

However, the caisearbhán's success as a species and its ability to colonise new areas quickly, prolific nature, and ability to out-compete cultivated plants can sometimes make it less popular among gardeners and crop-growers.

Only last week, I witnessed a pair of local seed-eating birds the lasair choille or goldfinch benefiting from the downy seed-heads which is a valuable food source for them at this time of year.

These vibrant flowers play a crucial role in supporting local wildlife in Spring and early Summer. Many insects, including our native butterflies and moths, rely on caisearbháin as a food source for themselves and their larvae. The bright yellow flowers attract pollinating insects like bumble bees and hoverflies, thanks to their generous stores of nectar.

Ecosystem engineers

Caisearbháin are among the first colonizers of waste ground. Along with other colonizing plants, they help stabilize soil conditions, attract other species into the area, and pave the way for the development of a rich, stable ecosystem. One of the aspects that makes the caisearbhán such an effective colonizer is its method of dispersal. Each seed-head comprises numerous seeds, each suspended on an individual gossamer parachute, ready to be carried away by the slightest breeze. As children, most of us have unwittingly helped the caisearbhán in their colonization by collecting and blowing the seed heads.

The caisearbhán's long central taproot is particularly effective at drawing nutrients from deep in the soil. Its leaves are packed with these valuable nutrients, which, when the plant dies or is pulled up and added to the compost heap, are released back into the surface layers of the soil and made available to other plants. Allowing dandelions to grow in your garden and harvesting the leaves as compost material or mulch can be an excellent way of recycling nutrients in the soil and keeping the garden fertile.

When you walk through West Cork's countryside and spot a field of caisearbháin, take a moment to appreciate the essential role they play in our environment. These seemingly ordinary plants contribute to maintaining a healthy ecosystem by supporting pollinators, providing habitat for insects, and improving soil fertility. Their resilience and adaptability make them a symbol of hope and perseverance, pushing their way through cracks in the footpath and appearing in the most unexpected places.

Moreover, caisearbháin have a rich history in Irish culture and tradition. The connection with St. Brigid and their various names in Irish folklore reflect their significance in our heritage. The medicinal properties of caisearbháin, passed down through generations, serve as a testament to the wisdom of our ancestors, who recognized and utilized the benefits these plants offered.

Conclusion

So, instead of viewing caisearbháin as mere weeds, consider them as valuable members of our natural landscape. Embrace their presence in your garden, and perhaps even experiment with their culinary uses by incorporating young leaves into your salads or brewing dandelion tea. By doing so, you'll not only enjoy their nutritional and medicinal properties but also deepen your connection to Ireland's rich natural heritage.

Caisearbháin are far more than just troublesome weeds; they are an essential part of our ecosystem and a symbol of resilience and adaptability. It's time we reevaluate our perception of these golden-headed gems and give them the recognition they deserve. So, let's celebrate the caisearbhán, piss-a-bed, clock or dandelion with it's many names and its many contributions to our environment, culture, and well-being.

Aodh Ruadh Ó Domhnaill's Castlehaven Connection

Mon, 08 May 2023 18:02:27 GMT

Castlehaven where Gaelic Ireland's hope sailed away

From our vantage point here in Castlehaven and West Cork, we have a small but unique connection to the life of Aodh Ruadh Ó Domhnaill. He is perhaps the most romantic of all Gaelic era heroes. Aodh Ruadh Ó Domnaill shared the same name as his powerful great-great-grandfather (1429–1505). Our Aodh Ruadh is known by many names and spellings including;

Aodh Rua Ó Dónaill
Hugh Roe O'Donnell
Aodha Ruaidh Uí Dhomhnaill
Red Hugh O'Donnell
Aodh Ruadh II
The Prince of Donegal
Aodh Ruadh Ó Domhnaill
Señor de Tyrconnell

It is said that he resented English ways and customs after his teenage incarceration by the English crown. I suspect he would deeply dislike the usage of the English 'Red Hugh' but I would image he would be happy enough for me to write about him using the most popular Irish spelling of his name Aodh Ruadh Ó Domhnaill. In his lifetime he would have used the Úi prefix instead of the more modern Ó.

This dashing 16th-century Irish chieftain was a key figure in the Nine Years' War against English rule in Ireland. Born in 1572, Ó Domhnaill's life was a captivating tale of youth, determination, suffering, courage, and leadership. In this blog post, I will delve into his life, exploring his upbringing, military achievements, and his departure from Castlehaven Strand to seek Spanish support, all from a distinctly West Cork point of view.

Clann Uí Dhomhnaill and Domhnaill Ó Domhnaill

Aodh Ruadh Ó Domhnaill was born into the powerful Clann Uí Dhomhnaill (anglicised to O'Donnell), which ruled over the region of Tír Chonaill. This kingdom at that time included most of present-day Co. Donegal with parts of Sligo and a bit of Fermanagh in the northwest of Ireland. Much like the local West Cork clans, they were great seafarers and traded with Europe, Bristol and Scotland.

Young Aodh got the moniker 'Ruadh' as he had reddish-brown / russet coloured hair. Today, we would probably call him a redhead or a ginger. His father, also named Aodh, was the reigning chieftain, and young Aodh Ruadh was groomed by his mother to become his successor.

However, it was his older step-brother the fabulously named Domhnaill Ó Domhnaill who was the more likely candidate to take over and he had the backing of Elisabeth I in London. There were plenty of other claimants too like his grand-uncle Aodh Dubh Ó Domhnaill. Are you confused by the names already? Gaelic clan succession was a bewildering and deadly business but it was useful if you where somehow related to the previous incumbent.

Iníon Dubh

His mother Fionnghuala was Aodh senior's second wife and a truly remarkable woman in her own right. Born Fionnghuala Nic Dhomhnaill, she was the daughter of Séamus Mac Dhòmhnaill, 6th Laird of Dunnyveg (Dùn Naomhaig) who was a chieftain on the Western Isles of Scotland. Better know as Iníon Dubh (the black daughter) she is described in the Annals of the Four Masters as "like the mother of Machabees who joined a man's heart to a woman's thought". While growing up in Scotland, she had received a good education at the court of Mary Queen of the Scots. This would be unusual for a women in the 16th century.

She had four sons and four daughters but as her older husband aged, he developed dementia. While Aodh senior was nominally the chieftain, it was actually Iníon Dubh who ruled Tír Chonaill during much of this era. She used her Scottish connections to great effect and imported thousands of Redshank mercenaries from the Western Isles of Scotland, initially get Aodh Ruadh into the chieftainship of the clan but later on to support him during The Nine Years' War.

Formative years as a teenage political prisoner

In 1587, at the tender age of 15, Aodh Ruadh was captured on the orders of Sir John Perrot, the English Lord Deputy of Ireland. It was a scheme to weaken the power of Irish chieftains. According to Irish accounts, Aodh Ruadh was lured on board a ship by an English sea captain named Barnes with the promise of wine. Naturally, kids can't hold their drink and he soon passed out, when he woke up he was in chains and the captain received £200 for kidnapping him and delivering him to Dublin. He was famously held captive in Dublin Castle for three years, three months and three days.

Despite his young age, Aodh Ruadh demonstrated remarkable resilience and determination in the face of such cruelty. Contemporary accounts state that he was treated badly as a prisoner and he developed a deep hatred of all things English during this period. He attempted several escapes, finally succeeding in 1591. His final escape attempt was real Shawshank Redemption stuff and even involved crawling through sewers followed by an epic journey over the Dublin and Wicklow mountains during a period of deep snow cover. The effort cost Aodh Ruadh his two big toes which he lost to frostbite and it killed a fellow escapee Art Ó Néill who died of hypothermia. To this day, their escape is commemorated in the annual Art O'Neill Challenge each January, it is a 60km night-time race from Dublin Castle to Glenmalure in Co. Wicklow.

Leader and War Chieftain

Upon his return to Tír Chonaill, Aodh Ruadh was hailed as a hero. At his mothers bidding, his father abdicated in his favour, and Aodh Ruadh became the leader of the O'Donnell clan. He quickly set about strengthening his rule and forging alliances with other Irish chieftains, notably the powerful Aodh Mór Ó Néill who ruled neighbouring Tír Eoghain and who also had the English title Earl of Tyrone.

In 1593, the Nine Years' War erupted, pitting the Irish chieftains against the forces of Queen Elizabeth I of England. Aodh Ruadh, alongside his now father-in-law Aodh Mór Ó Néill, emerged as one of the key leaders of the confederation of Irish clans. Together, they led a series of successful campaigns against English forces, earning them the admiration and support of their fellow Irishmen, including those of us here in West Cork.

War in Munster

Munster was still reeling from the devastation wrought by the Desmond Rebellions in 1569–1573 and 1579–1583. Some estimate up to one third of the population of Munster had died due to these wars and subsequent famine. Understandably the clans in West Cork were initially slow to support their Ulster kinsmen. As the war progressed, they did eventually join the confederation of clans and we see Ó Súileabháin Bhéara, Ó Drisceoil, Ó Donnabháin, and Mac Cárthaigh (O'Sullivan Bere, O'Driscoll, O'Donovan, McCarthy) all involved by 1601.

It was in Cork that the the most pivotal battles of Cogadh na Naoi mBliana were played out. The Spanish landed initially in Kinsale with about 3,000 men and by December 1601 they had also landed at Castlehaven with a further 1,200 troops. After eight years of war, the stage was set for a final showdown. The naval Battle of Castlehaven in mid December was indecisive but probably counts as a tactical Spanish-Gaelic victory.

Despite everything pointing to a Spanish-Gaelic victory in Kinsale, it all went wrong at dawn on the morning of the battle. Irish armchair historians have puzzled over countless what-ifs ever since. Perhaps, sometimes, the other side just gets lucky?

Kinsale and departure from Castlehaven

After the disastrous rout of the O'Neill's at Kinsale on January 3rd 1602, the Ó'Domhnaill troops left the field in good order and largely unscathed. However, the Irish cause appeared increasingly bleak. Aodh Ruadh made the decision to seek aid from Spain. He promised to return with 10,000 men. Just three days after the battle he set sail from Cuan an Chaisleáin as it was then known, nowadays we know it as Castlehaven or Gleann Bearcháin. Cuan an Chaisleáin is no longer used as a commercial harbour but it was a busy port in the 16th century due to it's very sheltered location and proximity to Europe. We have many accounts of famous comings and goings for this tiny harbor right here in our beloved West Cork.

Undoubtedly, Aodh Ruadh's departure accompanied by a small entourage of loyal followers is the most famous journey to start for here. This is where he saw Ireland for the last time on the 6th of January 1602. There is a passage written by the Franciscans as they discuss kneeling to kiss Aodh Ruadh's ring at Castlehaven Strand as he is about to depart for Spain. I often think about this poignant scene when I am down there in the morning getting ready to swim, especially when the tide is out.

He sailed from Castlehaven with the Basque General Pedro de Zubriaur. The journey was treacherous, as the seas were patrolled by English ships intent on intercepting and capturing Irish chieftains. Nevertheless, Aodh Ruadh and his companions successfully evaded capture and arrived in A Coruña in Galicia Spain, on the 14th of January 1602. There he and his companions were feted as royalty.

Exile and Death

The warm welcome they received from the Spanish authorities was a testament to the admiration and respect that Aodh Ruadh had earned across all of Europe for his efforts during the Nine Years' War. However, despite this initial reception, his mission to secure Spanish support for the Irish cause would ultimately prove unsuccessful.

Disheartened by the lack of Spanish support and with his health deteriorating, Aodh Ruadh died in Simancas, Spain, on September 10, 1602, at the age of 30. There was a degree of intrigue around his death but sin scéal eile. His body was interred with great honours in the monastery of San Francisco in the city of Valladolid, then the capital of Spain.

Conclusion

Aodh Ruadh Ó Domnaill's life was filled with struggle, bravery, and an unwavering commitment to the Gaelic cause. His legacy has endured through the centuries, as he remains a symbol of Gaelic resistance and national pride. Although he did not live to see the end of English rule in Ireland, his courage and leadership during the Nine Years' War left an indelible mark on Irish history.

From our local perspective in West Cork, Aodh Ruadh's departure from Castlehaven Strand is something we are very proud of locally and it stands as a poignant reminder of the sacrifices made by our ancestors in their fight for freedom. I would have learned about our local connection to Aodh Ruadh as schoolboy in Castletownshend National School many years ago when I was taught by Malachy O'Sullivan a great local historian.

As we walk along the shores of our beautiful West Cork, we can't help but feel a connection to this tenacious and inspiring Irish chieftain. Aodh Ruadh Ó Domhnaill will forever be remembered as a hero who fought valiantly for Ireland's sovereignty, and our right to freedom of religion and conscience. I suspect his story will continue to inspire generations to come.

The Scairbhín: Nature's Dramatic Seasonal Change in Ireland

Fri, 05 May 2023 09:46:23 GMT

It's Cuckoo Time in Cork and Kerry!

It's West Cork, so it has to be another weather related blog post. This month, we again we delve into the world of locally named weather phenomena. Today we're exploring the scairbhín – a fascinating and lesser-known aspect of the Irish climate.

This unique weather event, also known as An Gaoth Scairbhín, is a sudden and dramatic seasonal change that takes place around late April and early May. It is particularly spoken about in the southwest of Ireland but I have found references from as far north as Donegal. In this post, we'll cover the origin of its name, its characteristics, and the impact it has on local flora, fauna, and human activities.

I was at a funeral out on Ceann Tuaithe at the end of April. As is normal at these events, a neighbouring farmer had kindly donated his field so that mourners could park their cars while visiting the wake. Other neighbours were helping direct traffic around the tiny bóithríní out on this stunning peninsula. It was just around sunset and the traffic volunteers were perished with the cold standing in this elevated location. I listen as each mourner thanked the marshals, to a man and woman they mentioned the scairbhín and how difficult a task this was when the scairbhín winds were blowing.

The Origin of the Name

Some speculate that the term scairbhín is derived from the Irish phrase "garbh shíon na gCuach," meaning "the rough weather of the cuckoo" others speculate that it is its own word. Sometimes, you will even see it written as the anglicised 'scaraveen' which is a good guide if you are wondering how to pronounce scairbhín but the scaraveen spelling always appears a little postcolonial to my mind.

Whatever way you spell it and I won't judge you, the scairbhín refers to the period during which harsh winds dominate our local weather pattern. These winds coincide with the return of the cuckoo to Ireland from its winter migration. This bird is often regarded as a herald of spring in Irish folklore, and the sudden change in weather that comes with it is a testament to the unpredictable and powerful nature of Irish weather. In Ireland, it is said that when you hear the cuckoo for the first time each year, you should repeat a traditional prayer "go mbeirimid beo ar an am seo arís". With this beautiful Irish invocation, you are asking to be well and healthy at the same time again (next year).

Characteristics of the Scairbhín

It is always said locally that the scairbhín occurs between April 15th and May 15th, though I did come across one snippet that mentioned it lasts until the third week of May. The traditional date for the start of summer in Ireland is May 1st. However, that is based on a Gaelic calendar that is set by the length of the day. From a climatic standpoint, this is a season when Ireland experiences a sharp transition from our relatively mild winter to the warmer spring-come-summer. The most notable characteristics of the scairbhín weather phenomenon are:

Sudden drop in temperature: Scairbhín days are marked by a rapid drop in temperature, sometimes as much as 10°C in just a few hours. This can lead to frost formation, particularly during the early morning.
Strong gusts of wind: The wind speed during this period can reach up to 60-70 km/h, with even stronger gusts possible. This can sometimes make it challenging for outdoor activities, such as hiking or cycling, and can even cause damage to property and infrastructure.
Hail and snow: The scairbhín winds are often accompanied by hail and on rare occasionally we even see snow showers, which can create hazardous driving conditions and disrupt daily life. In rare cases, these showers can be heavy and persistent, leading to accumulation on roads and other surfaces.
A change in the prevailing wind direction. During the scairbhín, our prevailing southwesterly winds usually shift to the east. Easterly winds in West Cork tend to be much colder and even harsh at times. A local rhyme states "the wind from the east is neither good for man nor beast".

Impact on Flora, Fauna, and Human Activities

Much like the mistral in the South of France, the scairbhín plays a significant role in shaping Ireland's natural environment and even the behaviour of its inhabitants. Some notable impacts include:

Flora : The sudden drop in temperature can damage or kill sensitive plants, particularly those in the early stages of growth. Gardeners and farmers must take extra precautions to protect their crops during this time.
Fauna : The arrival of the cuckoo bird coincides with the scairbhín and it's harsh weather. Many other migratory birds such as the swallow return to Ireland during this time as well. The abrupt change in weather can be challenging for these birds, as they must adjust to the colder temperatures and find food and shelter.
Human activities : The scairbhín wind can disrupt daily life in Ireland, particularly outdoor activities such as farming, construction, sports and of course eco-tours. People must be prepared for the sudden change in weather and take the necessary precautions to stay safe and warm

Thankfully, unlike our ancestors, we now have wonderful technical clothing. Once we are prepared, it doesn't stop our daily adventures here at Gormú and of course we can also get lovely 'pet days' during the month of the scairbhín.

Conclusion

The scairbhín can be an intriguing weather phenomenon that showcases the power and unpredictability of nature. As we continue to learn more about this unique event, we can better understand and appreciate the incredible dynamics of our planet's climate. Whether you're an Irish native or just visiting the Wild Atlantic Way, be prepared for the scairbhín and it's dramatic arrival and the equally dramatic transformation it brings to the landscape.

The Enigmatic Glas Gaibhneach: A Dive into Irish Folklore

Mon, 03 Apr 2023 15:17:14 GMT

Leaking Udders and the Milky Way

Ireland is renowned for its rich folklore and we have arguably one of the finest folklore collections in the world which spans over 2 million pages. It contains many captivating tales, and the story of the Glas Gaibhneach (also know as Glas Gaibhnenn, Glas Gaibhleann, Glas Gamhnach) is no exception. Passed down through generations, the Glas Gaibhneach is a mythical cow believed to possess extraordinary qualities. In this blog post, we'll explore the fascinating tale behind this legendary creature and her significance in Irish folklore.

The Origins of the Glas Gaibhneach

The Glas Gaibhneach is said to be a magical cow with a stunning greyish hue. This enchanting creature was believed to be capable of producing an endless supply of milk, providing abundance and nourishment to its owner. However, the cow's true value lay not only in her extraordinary capacity for milk production but also in the taste and quality of the milk, which was said to be unparalleled.

The cow was initially owned by a chieftain named Cian, who was married to the beautiful and powerful sorceress, she also happens to be a daughter of the evil-eyed king of the Fomorians called Balor. The cow's magical properties were coveted by many, leading to numerous attempts to steal it from Cian. One day, Balor, discovered the cow's existence and decided to acquire it for himself.

To prevent the Glas Gaibhneach from falling into the wrong hands, Cian sought the help of a renowned hero named Biróg. Biróg was a skilled sorceress herself and devised a cunning plan to protect the cow.

Biróg's Cunning Plan

Together, Cian and Biróg hatched a scheme to outwit Balor and protect the Glas Gaibhneach. Knowing that Balor's strength lay in his evil eye, they decided to target his weakness. Biróg cast a powerful enchantment that would blind Balor temporarily when he attempted to steal the cow. In the meantime, Cian and Biróg moved the Glas Gaibhnenn to a secret location.

Undeterred by the enchantment, Balor embarked on his quest to obtain the Glas Gaibhneach. As predicted, the evil Balor was temporarily blinded when he attempted to steal the cow, allowing Cian and Biróg to confront him. A fierce battle ensued, with both sides displaying their prowess in combat and sorcery.

As the battle raged on, Balor's vision began to return, and his evil eye regained its destructive power. But just as it seemed that Balor would emerge victorious, Cian struck a decisive blow, defeating the evil king and securing the safety of the Glas Gaibhnenn. As for Cian's wife, we have no idea what she thinks of all this battling of her father and his eventual demise.

The O'Donovan Connection

Here, the magical cow feasts on the verdant grass, replenishing her energy and ensuring an abundant supply of the finest milk. As night falls, the Glas Gaibhnenn begins her trek back north across the night sky towards Caisleán Uí Dhonnabháin ( Castledonovan ) and on up to just beneath Mullach Méise . There she will be milked at dawn.

Her udders, heavy with the rich, creamy milk, can barely contain the copious supply. As she travels, droplets of milk spill from her udders, creating a stunning trail across the sky. This celestial phenomenon, visible on clear nights, is what we now know in English as the Milky Way. The connection between the Glas Gaibhneach and the Milky Way is a testament to the enduring power of Irish folklore and its ability to intertwine the natural and the supernatural.

Versions of the Story

As well as being known by variations of her name, there are many other versions of this famous story. A version collected on Beara, Co. Cork has her as the origin of three famous landmarks An Geadach, An Laoidh agus an Tarbh, probably better know as The Cow, The Calf and The Bull rocks nowadays.

A wonderful version of the story from Beara The Schools’ Collection, Volume 0274, Page 184 & P185 Image and data © National Folklore Collection, UCD

During my research of this tale, a reoccurring theme from all parts of Ireland is that of greed and a jealous neighbour. This neighbour normally has a wager with the owner that if they can find a vessel that the Glas Geabhneach can't fill, they can take the cow for themselves. The owner, fully confident the cows endless supply of milk agrees to the wager. The jealous neighbour then returns with a sieve and starts to milk the Glas Gaibhneach. In most versions, this kills the cow or she flees never to be seen again.

The Glas Geabhneach and a few other magical cows also show up in some of our lore about An Gorta Mór (the Irish potato famine). In these versions she uses her supply of milk to save the people of a locality and then mysteriously disappears once the famine finishes.

Conclusion

The enchanting tale of the Glas Gaibhneach captures the essence of Irish folklore, where magic and the natural world intertwine to create captivating stories. As a symbol of abundance, nourishment, and cultural heritage, the Glas Gaibhneach reminds us of the importance of preserving our traditions and the unique qualities that make our history so fascinating.

In a modern context, the story serves as a timely reminder of our responsibility to protect and cherish our environment and not to overexploit the resources it provides. As we continue to explore and celebrate our rich folklore, the legend of the Glas Gaibhneach will undoubtedly remain a cherished part of Ireland's and West Cork's cultural tapestry.

April Fools in Ireland: Embracing the Hairy Stool

Sat, 01 Apr 2023 13:22:57 GMT

Will you be the Amadán or Óinseach today?

Our eldest son woke up to an urgent letter, which was hand-delivered from his school early this morning. It pushed the date of his Leaving Cert Oral Irish exam forward by 24 hours. Panic ensued for all of 2 minutes until he realised the date was the 1st of April or Fool's Day as it is known locally.

Of course, April Fools' Day is a day celebrated all around the world, but here in Co. Cork, we embrace this tradition with a unique sense of humour and with a local touch. From practical jokes to elaborate hoaxes, us Corkonians have a knack for pulling off some of the most memorable pranks. In this blog post, we will delve into the Irish way of celebrating Fools' Day, and explore the local West Cork phrase, "Fool! Fool! you pulled the leg of the hairy stool."

A Tradition started by Different Calendars

The Irish are known for their quick wit and love of laughter, which makes April Fools' Day a perfect match for our culture. On this day, everyone becomes a prankster, trying to outwit their friends and family with hilarious gags and hoaxes. Many believe that the tradition of April Fools' Day dates back to the adoption of the Gregorian calendar in France, officially with the Edict of Roussillon in 1564. Charles IX decreed that the new year would no longer begin on Easter, as had been common throughout Christendom, but rather on January 1. Because Easter was a moveable date, those who clung to the old ways were the “April Fools”.

Here in Ireland, date-chaos was the norm for the next couple of hundred years as Gaelic and Catholic Ireland moved to the new Gregorian calendar in the 1560's. Meanwhile the English controlled areas around the Pale stayed on the older Julian calendar. Around the 1630's after the collapse of the Gaelic Petty Kingdoms, the Catholic clergy asked the pope for a dispensation to move back to the Julian calendar (which by then, everyone knew to be incorrect) as the difference in dates of major religious holidays made Catholics easier to identify. This was the era of priest hunters and harsh penal laws.

Then in the 1640's much of Ireland was back on the Gregorian calendar under the new Irish Catholic Confederation but after Cromwells reign of terror in the 1650's and the defeat of the Confederation, we moved back to the Julian calendar for the next 100 odd years, before finally switch back again to the Gregorian calendar in 1752 when the English finally saw some sense.

"Fool! Fool! you pulled the leg of the hairy stool"

This peculiar phrase is often used in conjunction with April Fools' Day pranks in this area of West Cork. It's a playful expression that essentially means, "You've been fooled!" The phrase is rooted in the image of someone literally trying to pull the leg of a hairy stool, which, of course, is an impossible and absurd task. By using this phrase, the prankster is essentially saying, "I've tricked you into attempting something ridiculous."

Celine hails from Co. Monaghan and the phrase up there was "April's Fool is dead and gone and you are the one to carry it on"

Killarney's and Ireland's funniest placename An Háhá or The Haha

Amadán or Óinseach

Amadán is the Irish word for a fool and April's Fool's Day is sometimes called Amadán Aibreáin or Lá na nAmadáin in Irish. Lá na nAmadáin (lit. the day of the fools) is interesting as we always simply called it Fool's Day in our youth.

Growing up here in West Cork, we always differentiated between a male fool and a female fool.

We called a female fool an óinseach
We called a male fool an amadán
It's diminutive is amadáinín, it can mean a little fool but is also one of the Irish words for a bat!

Some Notable Irish April's Fools

Ireland has seen its fair share of unforgettable April Fools' pranks over the years. Some notable examples include:

A local classic from days gone-by was to send an unsuspecting victim to a neighbours house with an important sealed letter. The amadán would be given strict instructions 'not to open the letter under any circumstances and to await instructions' after delivering the letter. Once the neighbour opened the letter it would normally say "send the amadán one stop further" and of course he would send the victim to another neighbour and so on.
The Spaghetti Tree Hoax: A local radio station once announced that a farmer in County Cork had successfully grown a spaghetti tree, with strands of pasta hanging from its branches. Many gullible listeners believed the hoax which was based on a BBC TV hoax from decades before!
The Leprechaun Sighting: In 2010, a group of pranksters dressed up as leprechauns and were spotted "dancing" on a roundabout in Dublin. They convinced many passers-by that they had spotted the mythical creatures, creating quite the buzz on social media.
The "Invisible" Statue: In 2015, a Dublin-based artist announced the unveiling of his latest sculpture, which he claimed was invisible to the naked eye. Curious onlookers gathered at the site, straining to see the nonexistent artwork, only to be met with laughter and the realization that they had been fooled.

Embracing the Spirit of April Fools' Day

In Ireland, we take pride in our ability to poke fun at ourselves and others. April Fools' Day is an opportunity to embrace this spirit and share laughter with friends, family, and even strangers. So whether you're attempting to pull the leg of a hairy stool, or plotting your own elaborate prank, remember that laughter is the true essence of this lighthearted day.

Lá na nAmadáin sona daoibh!

Happy April Fools' Day!

Borrowing Days of March and April

Fri, 31 Mar 2023 11:27:01 GMT

Laethanta na Bó Riach - days of the brindled cow

Here in West Cork, Ireland, there is a rich and vibrant tapestry of folklore that has been passed down from generation to generation. One such tale, that of the Bó Riach, is deeply ingrained in the local culture and has been the subject of fireside stories for centuries. Known as An tSean Bó Riabhach in other parts of the country, this mystical cow known as the Bó Riach here in West Cork has become a symbol of resilience and her tale as a cautionary reminder to the unpredictable nature of the Irish weather.

Note: Bó is the Irish word for cow and Riach, Riabhaí or Riabhach all r egional variants of the Irish word for brindled or streaked. The breed still exists here in Ireland and the Irish Rare Breeds Society are working hard to save these beautiful cows from extinction.

The Legend of Bó Riach

The Bó Riach, or "Brindled Cow," is said to be an old and wise cow with a distinctive reddish-brown and white coat. She is said to roam the rugged landscapes of West Cork, offering sage advice to the farmers who are fortunate enough to encounter her. Many tales recount the wisdom of this mythical creature, her understanding of the elements, and her ability to adapt to the ever-changing Irish weather.

My father, a born storyteller, used to recount the story of the Bó Riach to us during our childhood. His eyes would sparkle, and his voice would take on a dramatic tone as he told us of her encounter with the treacherous Irish weather. It was said that the Bó Riach, in all her wisdom, believed she had outsmarted the harsh climate and beaten the bitter cold of the month of March.

The month's, however, had a cunning plan in store for the Bó Riach. It is said that March, jealous of the Bó Riach's resilience, borrowed three days from April to unleash a bout of unpredictable and violent weather upon the unsuspecting creature. In the end, the Bó Riach, despite her strength and wisdom, succumbed to the wrath of the days March had borrowed, unable to withstand the bitter cold and relentless gales.

My father usually concluded the tale with the details of when the Bó Riach finally gets to April not realising that March had borrowed some extra days "She cocked her tail and ran down the field, then she dropped dead" Not all folk tales have happy endings!

"Mo grádh fé an Earraig tá an geimhreadh caithte"

There are hundreds of variants of the story of the Bó Riach in the Folklore Collection.

Note the beautiful handwriting in this one gathered from the Sheep's Head Peninsula. Here the brindled cow says "My love under the spring, the winter has passed"

The Schools’ Collection, Volume 0274, Page 197

A Cautionary Tale

The story of the Bó Riach serves as a cautionary tale, reminding us to never underestimate the power and unpredictability of the Irish weather. Just as the wise and experienced Bó Riach fell victim to the deceptive calm before the storm, we too must remain vigilant and prepared for our ever-changing maritime climate here along the Wild Atlantic Way.

Moreover, the legend of the Bó Riach illustrates the importance of respecting and honoring the natural world around us. The fickle weather, the shifting seasons, and the wisdom of the Bó Riach are all part of the rich tapestry of West Cork and Ireland's unique heritage. By preserving and sharing these stories, we pay tribute to the land and its people, as well as to the generations that have gone before us.

The enigmatic Bó Riach, or An tSean Bó Riabhach, will continue to captivate the h earts and minds of those who hear her tale. As we gather around our firesides over the next few days and we share the story of her battle with the unpredictable Irish weather, we are reminded of the resilience of both the land and its people. The legend of the Bó Riach serves as a testament to the rich folklore of West Cork, and as a reminder to always be prepared for whatever the Irish weather may bring.

Placenames of Schull featuring oak

Wed, 22 Mar 2023 15:19:54 GMT

Doire placenames of An Scoil

It is national tree week here in Ireland so we started looking at oak trees in Irish placenames. Oak trees have long held a special place in Irish culture, and this is reflected in the many place names across the island that incorporate the word "doire" which was often anglicised to "derry" in placenames, both of which mean "oak or oak grove".

In fact, the word "doire / derry" is so closely associated with oak trees that it has become a surname in Ireland, and many towns and villages have it as part of their name. For example,

Doirí Beaga or Derrybeg in County Donegal
Doire Loinn or Derrylin in County Fermanagh
Doire an Chláir or Derryclare in County Galway
Doire or Derry/Londonderry are all named for their oak groves.

Of course the London prefix added to Derry can be a bitín controversial in some circles but sin scéal eile ar fad.

O'Neill's Oak at the Battle of Benburb

T he oak tree was at times a symbol of resilience in Irish history. During the 17th century War of the Three Kingdoms, the oak tree became a symbol of resistance. The Irish leader, Eoghan Ruadh Ó Néill, was said to have hidden behind an oak tree during the Battle of Benburb in 1646, and it is claim it helped his victory. T he tree eventually became known as "O'Neill's Oak."

The oak tree has a deep significance in Irish mythology and folklore, where it is often associated with strength, endurance, and wisdom. It is speculated that the ancient Celts believed that oak trees were sacred, and many of their religious rituals were performed in oak groves.

Should it be An Scoil Doire?

Using the boundary of the Civil Parish of Skull (note: civil parishes are not really used in Ireland anymore but they are of historical interest) we ran a Turbo-Overpass query and extracted the original Irish placenames for the local townlands of Scoil Mhuire/An Scoil/Skull/Schull and it turns out quite a few of them have a doire or oak root. We found nine and we are included our interpretation of each name.

Doire Ceathrún - the oak quarter land
Doire Chonaill - Conal's oak wood
Doire Leathard - the half height of oak
Doire Mhóintín - oak of the little bog. We note with interest that this townland was anglicised as Derryfunshion which would be something like oak-ash or perhaps the ash woodland. This one may get it's own blog post in time.
Doire Uí Laoire - Uí Laoire's or O'Leary's oak
Doirín an Lomáin - little oak wood that is bare
An Doirín Ard - little oak wood up high
Doirín na gCloch - little oakwood of the stones
Doirín na Trá - little oak wood of the beach

So about 10% of the townlands of the civil parish of Schull have doire or oak as a root of their placename. This would indicate that native oak woodlands were once widespread in the area around Schull and Ballydehob.

Sadly, nowadays native oak can only be spotted in passing around the Mizen Peninsula and West Cork but we do see a few groves here and there. We also are aware of a number of landowners who are making huge efforts to plant native oak in parts of West Cork.

Today, the oak tree remains an important symbol of Irish identity and culture, and many people still value it for its strength and resilience. It is also a popular subject for local artists and writers, who use it as a symbol of the Irish landscape and heritage.

In conclusion, the oak tree has played a significant role in local and Irish culture, and this is reflected in the many placenames that incorporate the word "doire" or "derry." Whether as a symbol of strength and resilience or a reminder of Ireland's ancient heritage, the oak tree continues to hold a special place in the hearts of the Irish people.

With new Irish government grants now favouring native trees, we hope that doire or oak will eventually get restored to it's rightful place around Schull and across West Cork.

Lus an Chromchinn or Daffodils

Sat, 25 Feb 2023 17:13:39 GMT

The plant with the bowed head

Placenames can be an excellent way to appreciate the beauty and intricacy of the Irish language. Recently, my daughter who is studying to become a teacher was preparing a lesson for her students and had a flashcard with the Irish words "Lus an Chromchinn" on it. It was a term that I vaguely remembered from my schooldays so it sounded familiar to me.

After some contemplation, I eventually figured out the meaning behind the flashcard. It translates to "the plant of the bent head" . Of course , it helps that I am talking about place names most days on our tours. "Lus" means plant or herb in Irish and is a common element in plant names. Meanwhile, "Chromchinn" is a combination of "Crom" and "Ceann," which translates to "bent head."

I remembered the word "Ceann" from a bridge called Béal a'Chinn Mara, which translates to "mouth of the sea head," located between Rineen and a woodland area known as Leaca Riabhach. "Chrom" is a form of "crom," meaning bent or bowed, and when I saw the daffodil's way of hanging down from the stem, it all made sense.

The Irish language has a rich history that is deeply rooted in the land, and it is evident in the language's place names. "Crom" also appears in several other Irish placenames, with Maigh Chromtha being one example. Some suggest that it means a plain that is bent or crooked, while there are other interpretations for the town of Macroom.

It is delightful to see the beautiful displays of Lus an Chromchinn throughout West Cork and beyond during springtime. The daffodil has a special significance in Irish culture, symbolizing renewal, rebirth, and the joys of spring. Understanding the meaning behind the name of this beloved flower is a way to appreciate the Irish language and the deep connections between language, culture, and the natural world.

Daffodils have a long history of symbolism and significance in many cultures around the world, including Irish culture. In Irish mythology, the daffodil was associated with the goddess Brigid, who represented the arrival of spring and the return of new life to the land. Brigid was often depicted carrying a wand of daffodil, which she used to bring about the rebirth of nature after the long, dark winter.

The daffodil also has significance in other cultures. In China, the daffodil is associated with good fortune and is believed to bring luck and prosperity to those who cultivate it. In some cultures, the daffodil is also a symbol of hope and resilience, representing the triumph of life over death and the power of nature to renew itself.

In addition to its symbolic meaning, the daffodil is also renowned for its medicinal properties. In traditional herbal medicine, the daffodil bulb was used to treat a variety of ailments, including rheumatism, fever, and respiratory illnesses. However, it is essential to note that daffodils are toxic if ingested and should never be used for medicinal purposes without the guidance of a qualified healthcare professional.

Despite the daffodil's toxic properties, its beauty and symbolism have made it a beloved flower around the world. From Irish mythology to Chinese folklore, the daffodil has captured the imagination of people throughout history, reminding us of the power of nature to bring about new life, hope, and renewal.

Gráinne and her West Cork cousins

Sat, 25 Feb 2023 17:11:25 GMT

Tóraíocht Dhiarmada agus Ghráinne

Tóraíocht Dhiarmada agus Ghráinne or The Pursuit of Diarmaid and Gráinne in English is one of the greatest love stories of all time. We can date this tale to c. 200AD as some of the secondary characters in the epic love triangle such as the High King Cormac Mac Art and L u g ai d Mac Con are based on quasi historical figures from Irish history and we know the approximate dates when they reigned. It is a tale that touches many parts of Ireland but local lore tells us that the two lovers spent a night at Ceann Tuaite and it got us wondering, why did they head for Toe Head?

Well it turns out that Gráinne probably had some cousins locally. Mac Con the local West Cork boy who did well and eventually became High King of all-Ireland was a first cousin of Cormac Mac Art the high king during the era of the pursuit. Gráinne the heroine (or villain according to some versions of the tale) is the beautiful daughter of Cormac Mac Art.

Snow Day in West Cork

Thu, 19 Jan 2023 11:17:34 GMT

There is something about the word Sneachta

On Tuesday of this week we woke up to a blanket of snow. This is very unusual here in West Cork, as we only get to see snow every few winters. Almost instantly #sneachta started trending on social media. Sneachta is the Irish word for snow and it's got a lovely soft sound [Shh-nok-Ta], it's almost like the sound of snow falling.

Despite there being less than 5cm of sneachta / snow, schools were cancelled. Councils here in Ireland are not really geared for snow and ice. Of course they could probably purchase more snow plows etc but in many cases the equipment would be fully depreciated before it would ever get used.

Our youngest agreed to walk with me and the dogs, so out we headed on a winter adventure. I have lived in areas like Pennsylvania where snow is common during the winter months but I think there is something different about snow in the soft Irish light.

Anyway, back to sneachta. Why does it just sound better than the English word snow? I honestly don't know and maybe it's my upbringing but to me it just sounds like snow.