THE ROAD TO DOWNPATRICK HEAD, THE MYSTERY OF DU BRISTE, AND BREAKFAST AT MARY'S

A series of essays....

FOLLOWING THE ROAD TO DOWNPATRICK HEAD

....as seen through my eyes!


  

MARY'S COTTAGE KITCHEN

By: Jacqueline E. Hughes

Most of us wake-up to multiple sources of input even before arriving at the morning’s destination of work, school, or visiting a friend for coffee and conversation. The morning news, YouTube videos, and weather forecasts circle within our brains like the farmhouse in The Wizard of Oz while fragmented visions of unnecessary walls, various video tutorials, and colorful umbrellas encompass the little, white house in a mass confusion of swirling bits and pieces.

Today, I’m not going to allow these hollow fragments to haunt me. Today, I’m thinking about Mary, homemade raspberry scones with lots of creamy butter, and the pure charm of the local Irish people.

SCENIC DRIVE TO BALLYCASTLE

ROLLING HILLS AND STONE WALLS

You see, it all began when Dan and I decided to take a road trip up to meet the Wild Atlantic Way and follow it to the village of Ballycastle and visit the windswept outcrop of Downpatrick Head located just north of the village. Our hope was to find a quaint little eatery in Ballycastle and enjoy a homemade breakfast with the locals before finding the famous stone sea-stack standing close to the edge of the cliffs we were seeking. 

This sea-stack is called Dún Briste (broken fort) and legend has it that when a pagan chieftain refused to convert to Christianity, Saint Patrick struck the ground with his crozier (staff), splitting a chunk of the headland off into the ocean, leaving the chieftain on top! The sea-stack is beautiful to behold because you can see layers upon layers of multi-colored rock strata easily dating the land back millions of years, long before the dinosaurs roamed the earth. 

DUN BRISTE IS WAY OFF IN THE
DISTANCE, JUTTING OUT TO SEA

IN THE FOREGROUND: THE RUINS
OF SAINT PATRICK'S CHURCH.
IN THE BACKGROUND: THE WWII LOOKOUT POST.

The coastline of County Mayo can be rugged and wild while it curiously curves around the North Atlantic Ocean as you follow the Wild Atlantic Way. The designated signs allow you to follow this road quite easily and, I promise you, it will take you on adventures you will never find by tour bus. I always recommend renting a car whenever possible while traversing Ireland in order to get into all of the brilliant nooks and crannies and offbeat tracks that this craggy island has to offer.

Making it up the final hill with Ballycastle within sight, lo and behold, the very first sign we came across was Mary’s Cottage Kitchen! “That was certainly easy, wasn’t it?” I said, thoroughly delighted with our instant find and anticipating a cuppa or two in my near future.

“The stone façade is very inviting,” Dan added and we were instantly swept into the little structure by the strong wind at our back as soon as we opened the rustic front door. 

~~ MARY ~~

“Hello. Hello, and a good morning to ya!” Mary’s kind voice preceded her physical presence as our eyes adjusted from the bright sunlight to the dimness of the cottage’s interior. “Hello and please sit wherever you’d like. Indeed, my name is Mary and I’m gonna see what Beth here would like to have this morning and I will be right with ya. Make yourselves at home, won’t ya?”

As Mary glided over to Beth’s table, we sat down at a small one near a front window and were now able to see our surroundings quite nicely, as well as our intriguing host. From the ‘happy’ yellow walls to the solid oak tables and chairs that mimicked my Mother’s dining set but represented over twenty-one years of constant wear and tear contributed to by hungry local workers, farmers, ladies out for tea and scones, and families seeking refuge from having to cook dinner in their own kitchen one night a week...Mary’s Cottage Kitchen lived up to its name.

OUR VIEW OUT TO BALLYCASTLE

WE APPRECIATED
THEIR KEEN SENSE OF HUMOR

After perusing the menu inside and out, we determined that Mary must have a unique sense of humor and may show a little jealousy towards Bart, her husband, when hair color and age are concerned. “Canna get you both something to drink?” her warm smile imploring us to order and stay awhile. Walking away to make my tea and pour Dan a cup of coffee, it dawned on me what she reminded me of in a quirky sort of way. “Mary looks like a train engineer with her white hat and striped apron, don’t you think?” I asked Dan who was watching two men blowing in from the front doorway. “Maybe a little bit. I just think she’s adorable!”

MARY TAKING BETH'S ORDER

The two newcomers sat down at the table near us and made themselves at home. With one blink of an eye Mary was bringing out two steaming cups of black coffee and placing them in front of the men. “Hello, Cal! What’s up, Pat? Will it be the same as usual today? Yes, I thought so. Hope the world is treating you both well. Won’t be a moment, all right?” And, as if the front door had been left wide open, she blew straight back into her tiny kitchen. 

Shortly afterward, Mary emerged with tea and coffee in hand accompanied by fresh lemon wedges and honey and eager to take our breakfast order. When we saw that she offered poached eggs on toast with a side of rashers, there was no way we could resist. “Now, you get a side basket of bread, too, don’t ya know. I can fill it up with brown bread and a side of my mixed-berry jam, homemade and sweet as heaven. And, with your eggs, you’ll have a raspberry scone I made just this morning and practically hot from the oven.” With our mouths watering and tummies rumbling, about all we could do was nod our genuine approval as Mary turned to speak with Beth a few feet away.

AHH! THE PERFECT BREAKFAST!

DAN ENJOYING HIS BROWN BREAD

Now, the local men near us were carrying on a quiet conversation when Mary reappeared from the back like a choreographed dancer holding two steaming plates of eggs, rashers, and toast. Slipping one plate gently down before each man, she asked what more she could bring them and said she’d be talking later about a construction job she might have for them, soon.

“Do you notice how very few words are spoken and yet...everyone seems to know what everyone else is thinking? It’s as though spending enough time in close proximity together has enabled them to read one another’s mind,” Dan observed. I agreed wholeheartedly when Mary, quite the one person show, was bringing our own plates out to be placed down before us. Could she see how we were salivating in genuine anticipation?

MARY'S DISPLAY CASE
OF HOMEMADE DELIGHTS!

Discreetly wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I asked Mary if she created all of the scrumptious baked goods displayed in the glass case behind her, along with the brown bread and fruited scones. “Every day I wake-up early to work in the kitchen creating different delights to sell. Today it is raspberry scones but, tomorrow it will be strawberry or blueberry. I go by what’s available to me at the time. My jams are made in the late summer days when the fruit is the freshest it can be and then they are ready to bring out throughout the colder months.” 

It was such fun listening to her speak, her charming accent spreading joy to our ears. Before leaving us to devour our goodies, she asked, “Are ya bound for Downpatrick Head this morning? If so, be fairly careful. The wind is mighty powerful (pointing out the front window). The view of Dún Briste is stunning but the wind off of the North Atlantic can be a wicked ting.” We were both thinking that heeding a local’s advice was probably quite prudent.

Having finished our grand meal, a pot of brewed tea, and two cups of coffee, Dan was paying our bill while I was running all about taking pictures of Mary’s Cottage Kitchen. Mary gave us both a genuine hug good-bye and said she’d more than likely be there if and when we ever returned to Ballycastle. We decided we could not return without seeing Mary again!

FOLLOWING THE WILD ATLANTIC WAY

THE NORTH ATLANTIC IN THE DISTANCE

WHERE BLUE SKIES MEET THE BLUE SEA....  

Turning our rental car north to the coast we followed the signs leading us to the famous sea-stack and the mighty cliffs of Downpatrick Head. “Oh, look at that view, Dan! Please stop,” I pleaded for, at least, the fiftieth time that day. By now Dan was quite familiar with my need to shoot practically everything in sight! With a country as naturally beautiful as Ireland, this can be a very time consuming affair. But, so well worth it in the end. “Don’t worry, I’m pulling over here,” he explained with a smile on his face.

“Stunningly beautiful! What more can I say?” I exclaimed while madly clicking away.

ENJOYING THE MAGNIFICENT LIGHT
AND THE CRASHING WAVES

THE VIBRANCY AND COLOR OF LAND AND SEA

THE BEAUTY OF DOWNPATRICK HEAD

Parking the car and arming ourselves with woolen scarves and warm gloves, we prepared ourselves for an invigorating coastal walk up green slopes dotted with grazing sheep, around Poll N’a Seantainne, a magnificent blowhole that plummets down to the tempestuous ocean below, and a small stone building built near the edge of the cliff that served as a lookout post during World War II. The name Downpatrick is derived from a time when St Patrick himself founded a church here. We could still see the ruins of the church building, a stone cross, and a holy well nearby.

And, of course, there was the glorious Dún Briste majestically floating yards out to sea and resembling a giant layered cream torte baked to perfection over the span of many centuries. Dan snapped several pictures of this decadent slice of historic importance and has had it as his screen saver ever since.

GRAVEL PATH TO THE TOP OF THE CLIFFS

POLL N'a SEANTAINNE BLOWHOLE

DARKENING SKIES AND SUNSHINE....
PERFECT LIGHTING!!!

“Look at the dark clouds and mist rolling in. I believe we’re in for a big storm,” Dan said, as our fascination with the place had yet to ebb. With wide eyes I noted that I’d not taken the time to notice the thick cloud cover approaching us from far out at sea. It was a living, breathing white fog that had designs on engulfing the deep blue waters and the rolling landscape neatly bordered by rocky cliffs. “Let’s move now because we have quite a hike down to the car park,” I replied, a bit anxiously.

THE GLORIOUS DUN BRISTE

How many Irish men, women, and children stood along this same spot, year after year, watching the sea mist devour their land and homes in a matter of a few moments? The sea is a powerful force filled with mystery that takes up a large space in the history of Ireland and defines her people. On that particular day in early October, this fact was never more evident to us. We, also, learned to respect the land and the majestic cliffs that constantly work at keeping the mighty sea at bay.

HEADING BACK TO BALLYCASTLE
IN THE MIST AND RAIN

Copyright © 2019 by Jacqueline E. Hughes 

All rights reserved

Photo copyright © 2019 by Jacqueline E. Hughes

All rights reserved

SHUNNING THE SUN: IS IT DRAINING OUR HEALTH?

 A series of essays....

MICHIGAN SUNSHINE FIGHTING TO BREAK
THROUGH THE CLOUD COVER

....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E. Hughes

Making it through the gray days while retaining some semblance of sanity is my goal in 2019. You see, I’ve been here once before in my lifetime, twenty-two years ago, and had hoped to never have to tread these particular waters  again. However, I’ve discovered within the past eleven years that we have absolutely no control over our heartstrings and certain people know how to play the most melodious tunes on them while making you dance and sing as though the world were young and hopeful once again.

Those people include our grandchildren. Our first grandchild was born over eleven years ago. To be able to watch them grow-up while being a part of their lives was always our main reason for moving back to Michigan. The added benefit was reuniting with high school friends and making new friends who have become our family and pull at our heartstrings by just being their interesting and kind selves. Thank you each and every one of you! You've helped to make this transition possible.

CELEBRATING OUR
GRANDSON'S BIRTHDAY

Watching the Citrus Bowl New Year’s Day with Dan gave me another jolt of self-pity for which I’m not proud. As my husband was following the Kentucky Wildcats prove victorious over the Penn State Nittany Lions with a close final score of 27 to 24, I was observing the soft, white clouds drifting through the powder blue skies high above downtown Orlando, Florida! I was, once again, vicariously, feeling the warmth of the Floridian sun on my skin. For these reasons alone, it was the only Bowl Game I was truly interested in watching.

Having shared that cover of warm, beautiful blue skies, with the sun shining brightly overhead for so many years, a sudden spark of remorse circled within my gut as my eyes roamed from Orlando on the flat screen television to the gray skies and snow-dusted winter scene that continues to greet me outside the screened living room window of our Little Yellow Cottage in Michigan. Quite frankly, it’s not the cold that haunts me. I have several new plush and stylish coats that I enjoy snuggling into on my way out the door. Slipping my stocking feet into toe-covered shoes or sumptuously lined boots is a joy. And, my soft-lined gloves help protect my sensitive skin from being dry and painful. No, I’m good when it comes to utilizing my cold weather armor.

The lack of natural benefits from the sun is my most urgent concern.

A FLORIDA LIFESTYLE

There are good reasons those of us who live in colder climates tend to flock to warm, sunny places for Winter and Spring breaks! We enjoy the prospect of basking in the sunshine, walking a sandy beach, and shedding most of our clothes in order to swim in the warm waters of an aquamarine ocean. We instinctively know that vitamin D does do a body good!

Even though most people become sun-wary and opt to work, Dracula-like, indoors in order to protect themselves from skin cancer, and slather sunscreen on when the outdoors finally beckons, there can be a health fallout from spending too much time shunning the sun. Experts explain that our lack of solar exposure is depriving us from some natural benefits. 

A SYMBOL OF HOPE: A GOLDEN
SUNRISE IN OUR NEW BACKYARD!

STREET LIGHT OFFERING ITS
GOLDEN WARMTH ON A COLD,
SNOWY MORNING.... 

The Today Show contributor, Susan Donaldson James, tells us that nearsightedness is rising, perhaps afflicting one-third of the world's population by the end of this decade, and several studies have shown that kids who spend more time in sunlight are less likely to develop myopia.

She goes on to explain how light also plays a role in mood and sleep problems and how SAD or, seasonal affective disorder, is most common in winter when daylight hours are shorter. Now, new research is stressing the importance of sunlight absorption of vitamin D, a critical hormone steroid that has receptors in more than 2,000 parts of the body. Deficiencies could increase the risk of osteoporosis, heart disease, some cancers, infectious diseases, and even the flu, as claimed by the Harvard School of Public Health.

According to Dr. Michael F. Holick, a professor of medicine, physiology, and biophysics at Boston University School of Medicine, “Sun exposure is so important for your health. If you live above Atlanta, Georgia, for the first ten years of your life, you increase your risk of multiple sclerosis. If you were born near the equator, you have a ten to fifteen percent lower rate of diabetes.”

WINTER'S MANY SHADES OF GRAY

CAPTURING THE COLORS OF
A MICHIGAN SUMMER

More than 80 percent of Americans have inadequate dietary intakes of vitamin D, according to the 2011 National Health and Nutrition Examination Survey. If you shun the sun, suffer from milk allergies, or adhere to a strict vegan diet, you may be at risk for vitamin D deficiency. Known as the sunshine vitamin, vitamin D is produced by the body in response to skin being exposed to sunlight. It also occurs naturally in a few foods, including some fish, fish liver oils, and egg yolks, and in fortified dairy and grain products. Vitamin D is essential for strong bones, because it helps the body use calcium from the diet.

I can remember feeling a bit disoriented or ‘blue’ after spending three or four hours writing inside my home office in Orlando. Setting everything aside, I would slip out through the sliding glass doors to sit on the edge of the pool dangling my feet in the cool water for ten to fifteen minutes while basking in the warmth of the sun. By then it was either put on my suit and take the plunge or, return into the glorious A.C. and continue my indoor activities. This was just enough time to feel invigorated, recharged, and ready to take on the world.

MISSING OUR BACKYARD PLAYGROUND

The symbolism we find in wearing our flip-flops indoors and outside epitomizes the good life for most of us. It equals living within the proximity of the sunshine and being healthy, happy, and secure in the notion that life in the sun or on a beach is bound to be more wholesome and carefree. Just ask Jimmy Buffet!

There is little time more agreeable than knowing that whether you fly, take a train, or drive yourself to a sunny climate, the ceremony known as ‘peace of mind’ with time in the sun pulls us into another world and out of the constant gloom of gray skies and the lack of vitamin D.

I will be very careful the next time I even consider negating the southern migration of our so-called Snowbirds who require their time in the sun each winter, too. 

Yes, weather wise Dan and I had it made (in the shade?) for over two decades. Sure, there were things to think about such as palmetto bugs finding their way into the house, sharing our outdoor space with various reptiles, and learning how to cope with the neighborhood squirrels eating through the pool’s solar panels up on the roof. But, for the most part, both of us adjusted well to all of the above. 

A GARDEN FULL OF SUNSHINE

I am certain that we will be able to adjust to winter temps, shoveling snow, and blowing into piles the large amount of leaves that fall in the yard in the autumn. What is in need of the most adjustment is learning how to live through so many gray days with the cloud cover thicker than the ice cover on Lake Michigan and deeper than the clear, blue ocean waters that draw us back to our humble beginnings.

In the meantime, I will make it through my first winter back in Michigan, cherish the companionship of family and friends, and plan on spending future time walking island beaches and sipping a pina colada or two while soaking-up the sun and collecting my much needed vitamin D.

Copyright © 2019 by Jacqueline E. Hughes

All rights reserved

RECONCILIATION

A series of essays....

THE PATH TOWARDS RECONCILIATION INCLUDES DESIRE,
UNDERSTANDING, KINDNESS, AND LOTS, AND LOTS OF LOVE....!!!

        Picture was taken in Garranard, Correens, Ireland, October 4, 2018


....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E. Hughes

Reconciliation...

is the belief that two physical entities, both tangible, independent creatures who share a presence on this earth, are essential, visible, real to one another as they cast their shadows upon the same hollowed ground of their ancestors, may appease one another by reaching a harmonizing balance between their differences, setting their pride aside and reestablishing cordial relations between one another. Time will be of the essence during negotiations as time itself has a habit of slipping through the cracks of relationships like the very air that we breathe, invisible, silent, and fleeting if it is not constantly marked, attended to, and nurtured by both parties involved. If time is allowed a lengthy progression between estrangement or placation, the pain and loss that clings within the pit of the gut, the heart, the soul, only grows deeper, stronger, thicker and is allowed to fester and spread like a growing cancer that has metastasized until, eventually, all hope is relinquished and the physical pain of the loss is worn like a wreath of thorns until our last breath is taken.

Knowing or recalling what word, circumstance, or deed served as the wedge that initially split the foundation of common interest or comprehension between two souls can mark the beginning of reconciliation and allow the negativity to be pondered, analyzed, and dissected by both parties in order to make sense out of it or be able to reach some semblance of common ground within the relationship. Knowledge is the key to opening up the locked doors that may impede progress or prevent discussions. Without knowing what has pulled a relationship apart, how is one party equipped to tackle the necessary measures needed to encourage their full participation in this monumental gesture towards reconciliation? And, unless both sides participate in the act of overcoming the distrust or animosity towards one another in a civil attempt to try to regain goodwill via pleasant and mature behavior, any period of conciliation gained may only be a brief respite from a long term solution and negativity will soon resume.

If a person is unwilling to open his heart to the possibility of forgiving another, any hope of reconciliation is taken away. If communication between them is not worked on or made possible, hope diminishes....for what is progress but a coordinated series of open-mindedness with the ability to politely listen to the viewpoints of another person as you would expect them to do for you in order to reestablish friendship and harmony. Having one’s feelings hurt is a common emotion shared by all humans at one time or another. It is up to each of us to be able to determine how we go about understanding or coping with all levels of emotional pain. Choosing to deny its existence and climbing into a self-imposed vacuum of protection without the desire to communicate with those you feel have wronged you will only elongate and complicate any sense of well-being you may wish to obtain and exasperate the anger and confusion levels of others whom you love and may be closely involved with both parties: a spouse, a daughter, a father, or a close and dear friend. Talk, communicate, share the reason for your hurt feelings and be willing to reconcile your differences with kindness, understanding, and compromise. Never turn a blind eye to any and all possibilities if long term reconciliation is your ultimate goal. 

My wish for all this Christmas Season who feel the pain of loss, misunderstanding, hurt feelings, lack of communication with those we love, and the solid burden of feeling unhappy, misunderstood, or lost within our everyday life would be this: May you, eventually, reach a place in your life where, if nothing else, you can believe that hope will prevail. Having faith in the concept of positive change will prove to be more powerful and far more superior than opposing forces. Make the best of each moment we have together without hate or fear standing in the way. Set-up an appointment with yourself and make the time to reconcile your differences with the goal of compromise and love in mind. Sadly, life is too short. Time is fleeting. Allow joy to fill your heart once again! 

With all my love to everyone at Christmas and throughout the year! Let’s all work together to make 2019 the very best it can be....for everyone!

Copyright © 2018 by Jacqueline E. Hughes

All rights reserved

COUNTING MY BLESSINGS....!

A series of essays....

WHILE TAKING AN EARLY MORNING WALK AROUND
THE NEIGHBORHOOD IN QUIN, IRELAND, WE SPOTTED
A BIT OF THE HOLIDAYS IN SOMEONE'S FRONT YARD.

....as seen through my eyes!





By: Jacqueline E. Hughes

Irving Berlin, initially, did not intend for his song, “Count Your Blessings (Instead Of Sheep),” to become part of a classic December holiday song. However, each year we remember it in the 1954 movie, White Christmas, as two of the main characters played by Bing Crosby and Rosemary Clooney sing it to one another in order to advance their relationship and remind themselves to remember how much they are blessed instead of brooding about short-term problems.

During the holidays of my youth, I can remember, literally, bouncing off the walls in anticipation of Santa’s visit on Christmas Eve. Once, adrenaline pumped and playing my own hairdresser, I feverishly created short, jagged bangs where no bangs existed before, only after having given two of my favorite dolls a similar coiffure for the holidays! My hair grew back out. Sadly, theirs did not.

The song originally came about based on a personal experience of Berlin’s when his doctor suggested he try counting his blessings as a way to deal with his stress induced insomnia. My sweet Mother absolutely adored this movie and in a loving attempt at settling us kids down in the nights before Santa’s arrival, she would sit on the side of each of our beds and sing us to sleep via Irving Berlin’s lyrics. Maybe we didn’t quite fall asleep, but it certainly took the edge off of our childhood expectations and eyes were closed with the possibility of sleep soon to follow.

Having raised two rambunctious little ones of my own, especially around Christmastime, I was never surprised by their boisterous activities with the sound of laughter and footsteps echoing from their upstairs rooms and swirling down through the large, oak staircase before reaching my ears. For the most part, they were happy sounds, good sounds, without anyone crying or screaming. I instinctively knew the different sounds of my girls playing and precisely when parental intervention was in order as ‘good’ transformed into ‘Lord, I better get up there!’ 

So, this particular sound caught me by surprise just a few days before Christmas. It was the sound....of silence. 

“I should have known better,” is a phrase best forgotten once all is returned to a semblance of normalcy. Sitting at our claw-foot dining room table while addressing envelopes for the handwritten Christmas cards to be sent out the following day, it suddenly dawned on me that the joyous sounds of children at play had ceased. All was quiet as if a huge index finger held up to gigantic lips had totally encompassed our home on State Street. As this sudden realization roiled over me like a turbulent mixture of bubbles and foam, I heard a quiet shift of sound emanating from the kitchen right behind me.

Slowly turning around in my chair, the sight that greeted me was one that only a parent could fully appreciate. Standing side-by-side, my two angels, torn between fear and pride, faced the future with their heads up and hands down by their sides. Flashbacks struck my soul with tiny bolts of lightening piercing my heart and I knew immediately that I had one of two choices to make. I could cry like a needy baby or I could allow my gut instinct to take over and double over in my seat with tears of laughter knowing that karma was a real and, occasionally, alarming thing!

My eight-year-old, long, blond hair falling down over her eyes striking a youthful Veronica Lake pose, was attempting to hide something she held in her right hand. My youngest, having lived four-and-a-half years alongside our ‘Miss Lake
lookalike' and always having held her own, stood as still as a Roman statue while piercing me with her large, blue eyes, waiting for my approval.  

The ingenuity of my oldest lives with me, especially at Christmas, as I envision the light from the chandelier bouncing off of the scissors she held in her small hands. Without a wisp of her own hair challenged by this cutting tool, she said, “Do you like her hair, Mom? She sat really still for me while I gave her a new Christmas look. Is it okay, Mom? Why are you crying?”

Well, I must have sat there for at least one, solid minute while counting my blessings, tears in my eyes, and staring at the short, jagged bangs where no bangs existed before on our youngest daughter. It was as though I was transported back into time, sharing my own cunning imagination with the world without a thought of possible consequences. Unsuccessfully holding back tears of wonder.....feeling relieved and thankful, I sat thinking to myself, it will grow back and no eyes were put out or skin marred in the process!

I realized way back then that our blessings come in many shapes, forms, and sizes. Counting them each night instead of sheep in order to rest softly upon our pillows, dream encouraging dreams, and see a brighter day in the morning, isn’t such a bad idea at all. 

This holiday season I will stop indulging in self-pity or complaining and be grateful for all of the good people and things in my life, live each day to the fullest, and try not to become too unhappy about the bad things...they will pass. Learning to fully appreciate each breath we take and smiling until our facial muscles stop hurting and our smile becomes a permanent facial fixture, will only encourage others to follow suit.

So, my appreciation goes out to Irving Berlin’s quick thinking doctor and the fact that Berlin saw and captured the advantages of counting his blessings and was insightful enough to share them with us via his timeless and meaningful song.

Count Your Blessings (Instead Of Sheep)

Irving Berlin

When I'm worried and I can't sleep

I count my blessings instead of sheep

And I fall asleep counting my blessings

When my bankroll is getting small

I think of when I had none at all

And I fall asleep counting my blessings

I think about a nursery and I picture curly heads

And one by one I count them as they slumber in their beds

So if you're worried and you can't sleep

Count your blessings instead of sheep

And you'll fall asleep counting your blessings

Courtesy: GENIUS

Copyright © 2018 by Jacqueline E. Hughes

All rights reserved

DISTRACTIONS ALONG THE ROAD TO WIGTOWN, SCOTLAND

A series of essays....

A PROMISING DAY AS WE LEFT OUR SHEEP
FARM TO TAKE ON MANY NEW ADVENTURES

....as seen through my eyes!

 By: Jacqueline E. Hughes

We woke up to a very promising sunny day as we put together what we believed we needed for a day trip to Wigtown, Scotland’s National Book Town. 

Our four night stay at a working sheep farm in Uplawmoor, south of Glasgow, proved to be enlightening and quite photo worthy. We thoughtfully utilized its proximity to many of the places and attractions we wished to see, including the Highlands, the city of Stirling, Glasgow, and now, Wigtown. 

Located due south of our farm and slightly over a hundred and seventy-two kilometers (one hundred and seven miles) away, the four of us opted for the longer route to Wigtown which meant following the coastline along the Irish Sea for much of the drive. The skies proved to be overcast the further south we traveled and this attributed to some of the most spectacular skies and cloud formations we had yet to see.

APPROACHING CROSSRAGUEL ABBEY

HOW SPLENDID SHE MUST HAVE BEEN!

By now, Dan was quite accustomed to our need to ask him to stop the car at a second’s notice in order to capture a particular photo opportunity. Michael and I warned him of this quite early on and he obliged...for the most part.

Because the day was turning more overcast by the minute and a soft, misty rain began to fall, everything around us seemed more alive, surreal, as though the scenery was outlined in fine, dark strokes by some mystical artist whose knowledge of shadows and highlights was quite extensive. Being prepared for most weather conditions, we would simply pull-up our rain hoods and appreciate our good fortune.

MICHAEL PERCHED ON THE GATE

 

THE RUINS OF CROSSRAGUEL ABBEY

 

Stopping at the ruins of Crossraguel Abbey, I emerged from the car to find Michael halfway up a metal gate, camera in hand, shooting the Abbey while the rain dripped from his parka and a huge smile radiated across his face. We felt like two kids in a candy store and we weren’t about to relinquish this sweet, golden opportunity!

A BEAUTIFUL BUILDING WHICH
WAS ORIGINALLY AN OLD SCHOOL HOUSE

Leaving the Abbey, Dan headed towards the small town of Kirkoswald. This time it was his turn to take a deep breath, back up, and pull into the parking lot of the A. D. Rattray's Whisky Experience & Whisky Shop. Because we had to forego the 'Scottish Whisky Trail' which runs north of Edinburgh due to time constraints, this little shop, we hoped, would pacify us until next time. It did not fail...

RAPHAEL MARINONI

Greeted at the door by a handsome gentleman we would soon be calling Raphael (Marinoni), we proceeded to tour the main room only to discover so many hidden gems. Raphael let it be known that we would be able to sample most of them if we wished to. Pure Heaven. So, I began with their Sloe Gin and it was hardly the product I would associate with my college memories, at all. It was so smooth and ridiculously 

delicious!

Sloe, another term for blackthorn, is the small bluish-black fruit of the blackthorn, or Prunus Spinoza, a species of flowering plant in the rose family. These plants are native to Europe and were handpicked in Scotland. Then, the finest London Dry Gin is blended with the highest quality Sloes using their unique recipe resulting in this fruity and floral concoction of the gods. Yes, we did bring some home with us.

SAMPLING THE DELICIOUSNESS...

As Marsha and I were remembering our college socializing days (nights), the guys were in the Cask Room listening about the history of a thirty-year-old Scotch Whisky, matured in a single sherry cask, the color of flame gold, with a nose of mandarin, cardamom, and cinnamon, a palate of rum and raisin with coriander and clove, and a finish of Seville orange, molasses and white pepper. Need I say more?

THIRTY-YEAR-OLD SCOTCH WHISKY~
WAITING TO BE LABELED AND WAXED

APPLYING THE FINISHING TOUCHES

Raphael’s official title is Retail Division Manager. We regarded him as our 'Official Reference Guide' to all things liquid, flavorful, and smooth on the palate...sophisticated and discriminating to the taste. With his impressive knowledge and infectious passion for Scotch whisky, Raphael added his fine collection of entertaining anecdotes to our conversations keeping us smiling, if not laughing, our entire stay.

MICHAEL EXPRESSING HIS CONCERNS
TO DAN ABOUT GETTING ALL OF THIS HOME!

RAPHAEL IS HAPPILY WRAPPING UP
ALL OF OUR PURCHASES

The stars aligned for our visit with Raphael. The knowledge we gained by listening intently to the history of Scotch whisky laced with his marvelous sense of humor, will remain with all of us, forever. Besides, even the fairyland title of A. D. Rattray's Whisky Experience & Whisky Shop, Established in 1868 captures all of the charm of a British cinematic production. Take time to book a tasting event when you travel there and remember their phrase which encapsulates the beauty of the original school house turned Whisky Shop: We Have A Whisky For Everyone!

THE FINISHED PRODUCTS....
HOME, SAFE AND SOUND!

Right about now, as we were on the road once again heading to our final destination, Wigtown, we asked ourselves what could possibly top our whisky experience? Well, the Irish Sea, of course!

OUR FIRST GLIMPSE OF
THE IRISH SEA

THE MAGNIFICENT CLOUD COVER OFFERED
AMPLE VARIATIONS OF LIGHT AND SHADOWS

The A-77 turned south at Turnberry and we caught our first glimpse of the Irish Sea that day. The Ailsa Craig is an island located sixteen kilometers (ten miles) out from the coast and juts out of the sea like an enormous gray gem floating in its liquid setting of blue, gray, and white. It resembled a gigantic turtle rising from the watery depths of time and space. Topped by a halo of menacing storm clouds, this island captured our attention for quite a while.

A TORTOISE SHELL EMERGING
FROM THE WATERS

AILSA CRAIG, THE GEM OF THE IRISH SEA

As Dan followed the natural curvature of land along the sea, we could stop and shoot the Ailsa Craig from many different angles and perspectives. The constant motion of the intense cloud cover dappled it with shapely shadows and mystifying light.

The coast was mesmerizing as picturesque green hills butted up against the lapping waves and were dotted with handsome cows and color-marked sheep grazing away in the misty daylight. By now, Dan had really gotten into the rhythm of spotting potential photo ops and began scouting for them on his own. However, if the light faded or if it became too cloudy, Michael and I would politely tell him no and Dan would drive on to the next brilliant location. 

LOOKING OUT TO SEA

THE GREEN HILLS ROLLING
DOWN TO THE SEA

Saying good-bye to the Irish Sea, we turned inland near the town of Castle Kennedy and followed the A-75 before having to jut off onto smaller roads heading due east to Wigtown. The Scottish scenery never disappointed and always left us desiring more and more. Like most of us tend to do, we pictured what life would be like in this or that town and envisioned how exciting it would be waking up each morning in any one of the surrounding, beautiful country settings. We imagined what it must have been like years ago tending the livestock or keeping the farmstead clean and its inhabitants healthy and well fed. 

Traveling can often be like living within the illustrated pages of a history book. And, it doesn’t matter if we’re learning about two whisky-loving families, the Walkers and the Morrisons, who married together in the mid 1900's and whose skills and knowledge were passed down from  generation to generation or capturing the perfect shot of a cloud dappled island living far out to sea. By visiting the multitude of local museums you find along the way, you understand how they offer any traveler the foundation he or she needs to better appreciate the people, habits, and work ethics of those who lived, laughed, cried, and loved there before you. 

As we reached the edge of Wigtown and anticipated the treasures to be discovered there within the covers of its books, speaking with its local personalities, and visiting its unique spaces, I asked Dan to stop one more time before entering the town. Snapping one final picture, I now realize that I was formally marking our territory with this photo and creating a buffer zone of personal space between the outside world and Wigtown itself. I believe it worked because our visit was magical, albeit way too short. 

To be continued...  The Wigtown Book Festival!

Copyright © 2018 by Jacqueline E. Hughes

All rights reserved

Photo Copyright © 2018 by Jacqueline E. Hughes

All rights reserved