Another gem. I love Paul’s impeccable use of the apostrophe, and that he knows when it’s not needed (as in the possessive its). My heart begins to beat a little faster every time I approach the possessive its, but no need with Paul’s writing. There’s a sadness to this well though - stuck beside suburbia and locked. The West is losing belief - even Ireland. Sixty years ago such neglect of a holy place would have been unthinkable. How much has been lost.
Beautiful prose as always. Instantly reminds me of an experience when I was young.
America, land of fast-moving forgetters, doesn't even try to respect holy places. They do exist for a while We lived in a new subdivision that was fast encroaching on the Anderson farm and the Goodnow farm. Goodnow was one of the town founders, and his granddaughter still lived there, now a cranky old lady who yelled at me for playing on their stone walls and junk pile. Anderson was a descendant of the man who had reconsecrated the university to its original purpose of training farmers, after it was desecrated by Harvard-emulators.
The Anderson farm had a cattle pond, with a dam that led to a little creek in a deep valley right next to the encroaching suburban fill. I climbed down from the street into a little private universe, invisible from the street. The creek was a cool and shady and alive place amid the hot concrete and repetitive houses.
Soon, of course, the pond was filled and the creek valley was buried under more manicured lawns and repetitive houses.
Again, what a wonderful story. Just this morning I happened to wonder a bit worryingly: are we near fifty already? How I will miss them! But we're only halfway, thank you Lord. Nice to know that there are three thousand saints in Ireland.
Lovely piece. Ireland has changed so much in the last 30 years, but under the motorways and industrial estates are still these gems of the past. I think these ‘thin places’ are so important....
Thank goodness we're only halfway, they've become an integral part of my Sunday morning. I get up before 7 and do a meandering 6 mile circuit of town and countryside, punctuated about a third of the way round by a simple spoken service of Holy Communion in a wonderful old church.
Then home to breakfast and a Well. Thoroughly nourishing on all levels!
Yes, a sad little piece this morning. I wonder who has locked it and who has the key? I once lived at a post office in Recess and there was a well there in the back, nothing proclaiming holiness. But there is a quarry behind it that supplies road rock, or did, and would regularly blast with dynamite to break the rock. The ground would shake with it and my dogs would quiver. One time after such a blast I went to draw some water and discovered hundreds of tiny shrimp-like creatures floating in the water, dead. For road rock. For cars.
There's a poem by Robert Frost, "Directive," one of his best, that complements the feeling in me engendered by these descriptions of forgotten wells. In the poem, the narrator wanders through a forgotten, abandoned village to find an old well behind a house. I'm tempted to quote the final couplet for you all, but I will ascetically deny myself that pleasure, because you should read the whole thing with the final couplet in context. I won't link to it either, because it won't have the same effect on you if you don't take down his volume of collected verse from your shelf and look it up.
I do hope you'll make a little pilgrim's guide out of these entries. It would be wonderful to have a guide book handy to the rounds of these wells one day.
Thank you for these essays. I'm as Protestant as they come, but the heritage of the saints is one the entire Christian body needs to remember and emulate, especially in these times
I absolutely love the holy well series. I am saving up to make my first trip abroad to visit some of them. I’ll join the people who won’t forget so easily. Or rather, the people who are being reminded.
Another gem. I love Paul’s impeccable use of the apostrophe, and that he knows when it’s not needed (as in the possessive its). My heart begins to beat a little faster every time I approach the possessive its, but no need with Paul’s writing. There’s a sadness to this well though - stuck beside suburbia and locked. The West is losing belief - even Ireland. Sixty years ago such neglect of a holy place would have been unthinkable. How much has been lost.
Beautiful prose as always. Instantly reminds me of an experience when I was young.
America, land of fast-moving forgetters, doesn't even try to respect holy places. They do exist for a while We lived in a new subdivision that was fast encroaching on the Anderson farm and the Goodnow farm. Goodnow was one of the town founders, and his granddaughter still lived there, now a cranky old lady who yelled at me for playing on their stone walls and junk pile. Anderson was a descendant of the man who had reconsecrated the university to its original purpose of training farmers, after it was desecrated by Harvard-emulators.
The Anderson farm had a cattle pond, with a dam that led to a little creek in a deep valley right next to the encroaching suburban fill. I climbed down from the street into a little private universe, invisible from the street. The creek was a cool and shady and alive place amid the hot concrete and repetitive houses.
Soon, of course, the pond was filled and the creek valley was buried under more manicured lawns and repetitive houses.
Again, what a wonderful story. Just this morning I happened to wonder a bit worryingly: are we near fifty already? How I will miss them! But we're only halfway, thank you Lord. Nice to know that there are three thousand saints in Ireland.
Lovely piece. Ireland has changed so much in the last 30 years, but under the motorways and industrial estates are still these gems of the past. I think these ‘thin places’ are so important....
As an American awash in the emptiness of our culture I so appreciate these Sunday morning escapes
Thank goodness we're only halfway, they've become an integral part of my Sunday morning. I get up before 7 and do a meandering 6 mile circuit of town and countryside, punctuated about a third of the way round by a simple spoken service of Holy Communion in a wonderful old church.
Then home to breakfast and a Well. Thoroughly nourishing on all levels!
So after all holy stuff down at Coran's, did ya actually have a game of bowling?
I always loved a bit of bowling in the day.
Yes, a sad little piece this morning. I wonder who has locked it and who has the key? I once lived at a post office in Recess and there was a well there in the back, nothing proclaiming holiness. But there is a quarry behind it that supplies road rock, or did, and would regularly blast with dynamite to break the rock. The ground would shake with it and my dogs would quiver. One time after such a blast I went to draw some water and discovered hundreds of tiny shrimp-like creatures floating in the water, dead. For road rock. For cars.
I too look forward to these Sunday morning missives.
Even the neglected, suburban surrounding wells hold magic if we have the eyes to see. Thanks for showing us.
There's a poem by Robert Frost, "Directive," one of his best, that complements the feeling in me engendered by these descriptions of forgotten wells. In the poem, the narrator wanders through a forgotten, abandoned village to find an old well behind a house. I'm tempted to quote the final couplet for you all, but I will ascetically deny myself that pleasure, because you should read the whole thing with the final couplet in context. I won't link to it either, because it won't have the same effect on you if you don't take down his volume of collected verse from your shelf and look it up.
I do hope you'll make a little pilgrim's guide out of these entries. It would be wonderful to have a guide book handy to the rounds of these wells one day.
Hmm don’t know much about Saints. Do we have them in America?
This is a sad one. So many people so close and nobody paying any heed to it. It certainly does reflect the spiritual state of our times.
Wow. I'd love to know the thought process behind the French girl pose of that one statue.
Thank you for these essays. I'm as Protestant as they come, but the heritage of the saints is one the entire Christian body needs to remember and emulate, especially in these times
I absolutely love the holy well series. I am saving up to make my first trip abroad to visit some of them. I’ll join the people who won’t forget so easily. Or rather, the people who are being reminded.