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jawnbcThis evening I was affected—surprisingly, suddenly—by the texture of the light. The twilight had an almost indigo tint to it, rendering things (cars, the mall, people going in as I was going out) seemingly sturdier, perhaps weightier, but also bright. The moment was fleeting—I had two relatively heavy bags and rather automatically began loading them into my bike—but the sense of it lingered in the back of my mind all evening. It was both sharper and less clear. Sort of . . .
Hours later I recalled a similar feeling from many, many years ago. In 1972 my father and mother took the family—themselves plus 4 kids, aged 8, 9, 11 and 12—to Ireland for 5 weeks. Mostly we stayed with Una, Da’s sister and her family, but we travelled around Eire a fair bit: to Galway (Nana’s people), Offaly (Pop’s), Dublin and the Ring of Kerry. It was to the Ring of Kerry, that my senses returned this evening.
It was our first day at the Great Southern Hotel Parknasilla, and after a day in the cars (Da treated Una and her kids to come along), we kids were all squirrelly and itching to move our bodies. Once we were checked in and Ma had a sense of the facilities (so she knew where to keep us out of), we were given some time to “go play”. And so we were off: even though it was already 7pm, the sun was still in the sky.
Siblings always have some sort of pecking order, often age-related; in an extended family you get both sibling and generational hierarchies. I was the second youngest of the eldest 7 kids there—my youngest cousins (Mick and Paddy) were both less than 3 years old. My sister and our girl cousins quickly ran off, as did my brothers and our cousin David. As at home, I went with neither: the girls were closer in age, but they were girls, though I wanted nothing to do with what interested the boys. I have a generalized sense of overbearing loneliness when I think about my early childhood, though not sadness.
I started walking down towards the sea, but almost immediately a very tall English-style hedge got in my way. I followed along it, initially to circumnavigate this apparent barrier, only to discover it was the outer wall of a garden maze.
II was never an adventurous kid, especially not out of doors; I didn’t like getting dirty, and certainly wasn’t very sporty. Yet I entered the maze unfraid, and began wandering, unsure if I were supposed to exit another side, or find my way to the centre. The mental puzzle—visualizing and remaining mindful of where I had been, where the dead ends were, where I had come in—engrossed me, and distracted me from any sense of being excluded by the others.
Most likely I was in the maze for at least an hour, perhaps two. I hadn’t found sorting the maze difficult; in fact, I’d found my way through it quite easily. But within the maze, and its 3m high hedges, the changes in light entranced me. In certain places, that indigo brightness was abundant, and it captivated me. I verily danced in magical light.By then it was about an hour before the (10pm) sunset.
Eventually my mother’s call (KathleenMichaelTommyandJooooohn, just like at home), snapped me out of my reverie. I made my way out of the maze, and headed towards the lights of the hotel dining room. Periodically turning to walk backwards, looking at the maze and onwards towards the sea.
Hours later I recalled a similar feeling from many, many years ago. In 1972 my father and mother took the family—themselves plus 4 kids, aged 8, 9, 11 and 12—to Ireland for 5 weeks. Mostly we stayed with Una, Da’s sister and her family, but we travelled around Eire a fair bit: to Galway (Nana’s people), Offaly (Pop’s), Dublin and the Ring of Kerry. It was to the Ring of Kerry, that my senses returned this evening.
It was our first day at the Great Southern Hotel Parknasilla, and after a day in the cars (Da treated Una and her kids to come along), we kids were all squirrelly and itching to move our bodies. Once we were checked in and Ma had a sense of the facilities (so she knew where to keep us out of), we were given some time to “go play”. And so we were off: even though it was already 7pm, the sun was still in the sky.
Siblings always have some sort of pecking order, often age-related; in an extended family you get both sibling and generational hierarchies. I was the second youngest of the eldest 7 kids there—my youngest cousins (Mick and Paddy) were both less than 3 years old. My sister and our girl cousins quickly ran off, as did my brothers and our cousin David. As at home, I went with neither: the girls were closer in age, but they were girls, though I wanted nothing to do with what interested the boys. I have a generalized sense of overbearing loneliness when I think about my early childhood, though not sadness.
I started walking down towards the sea, but almost immediately a very tall English-style hedge got in my way. I followed along it, initially to circumnavigate this apparent barrier, only to discover it was the outer wall of a garden maze.
II was never an adventurous kid, especially not out of doors; I didn’t like getting dirty, and certainly wasn’t very sporty. Yet I entered the maze unfraid, and began wandering, unsure if I were supposed to exit another side, or find my way to the centre. The mental puzzle—visualizing and remaining mindful of where I had been, where the dead ends were, where I had come in—engrossed me, and distracted me from any sense of being excluded by the others.
Most likely I was in the maze for at least an hour, perhaps two. I hadn’t found sorting the maze difficult; in fact, I’d found my way through it quite easily. But within the maze, and its 3m high hedges, the changes in light entranced me. In certain places, that indigo brightness was abundant, and it captivated me. I verily danced in magical light.By then it was about an hour before the (10pm) sunset.
Eventually my mother’s call (KathleenMichaelTommyandJooooohn, just like at home), snapped me out of my reverie. I made my way out of the maze, and headed towards the lights of the hotel dining room. Periodically turning to walk backwards, looking at the maze and onwards towards the sea.
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no subject
Date: 2004-09-26 07:30 am (UTC)I tried my hand at capturing a similar play of light and weather here.
Thank you. As the light slowly darkens in the Northern Hemisphere, it's great to read about the light of summers past.
no subject
Date: 2004-09-26 09:43 pm (UTC)beautiful
Date: 2004-09-26 10:33 am (UTC)Moments to be treasured, and fortunately to be reminded of. You have such rich childhood memories, and amusingly related. Encore J. xxx T.
Re: beautiful
Date: 2004-09-26 09:43 pm (UTC)Or maybe not.
no subject
Date: 2004-09-26 01:58 pm (UTC)Your story had me there with you in the electric evening light. Your writing is truly a-maze-ing!
(ouch)
no subject
Date: 2004-09-26 09:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-09-27 03:14 pm (UTC)I wonder if these memories are connected to your upcoming wedding? Do you do a conscious or subconscious mini-review of your life preceeding major life events? I tend to.
no subject
Date: 2004-09-27 07:17 pm (UTC)