Words amuse me. After visiting Ireland I find that I’m even more interested in colloquialisms and regional sayings. Learning just a smidgen of Irish Gaelic had me scrambling to find this old piece from the early days of my blog. Fittingly, I couldn’t remember what I’d called it. Go figure.
Tag: blog
The Gaelic Muse
The Gaelic Muse
This lovely statue in Killarney pays tribute to the poets of County Kerry. I discovered it just a block from the Malton Hotel and asked the muse for a bit of inspiration. I’m a patient lass, but any time now would be good.
Wouldn’t you love to know why Pierce Ferriter was hanged? Well, I looked him up on Google:
“Piaras Feiritear, better known via the Anglicized name Pierce Ferriter, was an Irish poet who also served as an officer during the War of the Irish Confederacy, 1641 – 1652. Piaras may have been born about the year 1600, the son of Eamon Feiritear, (Edmond Ferriter)a landowner whose lands on the far western part of the Dingle Peninsula had been the Ferriter family’s homestead for about 350 years when Pierce was born.
Much of what is known or surmised regarding Pierce Ferriter the man extends from his surviving poetry. His use of the Irish language, themes, and imagery indicates that he was a man of education, and probably well taught in both English and Irish. By account he was a harpist as well as a poet. The surviving body of work represents some of the finest Irish language poetry of his era.
Less is known of his personal life. Evidence exists that he was married and from this marriage, there is known to have been children: two sons and a daughter, Dominick, Richard, and Helen. We also know that Piaras was friendly with both the nearby family of the Knight of Kerry, who were Geraldines, and the more distant FitzMaurice family – also a Geraldine line. From the Lord of Kerry (FitzMaurice) he was favored with a commission to raise an armed company from his lands and neighborhood on the Dingle Peninsula. Pierce’s arming and leading of the local citizens was to be in support of the English Crown however, rather than going to war with the Kerry Catholics, he aligned himself with the anti-English forces, and brought his men to join in the siege of Tralee in 1641.
During the siege of Tralee Peirce was wounded, and his active involvement in the fighting after the fall of Tralee is uncertain. With the fall of Ross Castle in 1652, the war in Kerry was lost, and other defeats brought the war to an end in the rest of Ireland as well. Pierce Ferriter’s sons Dominick and Richard left Ireland as “Wild Geese” under agreements made by Lord Muskerry. Pierce remained at large for almost a year, and many of the folk tales and legends surrounding his abilities as a warrior emerge from this interval. At last, in 1653, Pierce Ferriter was brought in to Ross Castle under an assurance of safety.
After an unsuccessful parley was Pierce began his journey from Killarney homeward. Somewhere near Castledrum, he was apprehended by men dispatched by the erstwhile negotiator, Colonel Nelson, and brought back as prisoner. Pursuant to a trial of which no record remains, Piaras Ferriter was hanged, presumably for having been a rebel.”
I tried to find a sample of his poetry, but came up empty handed. I’ll keep looking.
Peace, people!
Oldie #5: Bad Karaoke
When one’s singing is so awful it requires police intervention, that’s really bad karaoke.
Snapshot #194
Almost every item for purchase at the Lahinch Golf Club pro shop featured this guy. Let’s call this photo, “Go-Go Goat!”
Picked up a new Twitter Follower….
Really thought I was following Him and not the other way around.
Break Out the Champagne!
Thanks to all of my readers and followers for providing the encouragement that keeps me going. I might not be the world’s greatest blogger, but I’m fortunate to have the world’s greatest followers.
Kisses and champagne for all.
Yours truly,
Leslie Noyes
Oldie #4: Cleaning Bathrooms and Taking Names
Oddly enough, my stint as an unpaid and unacknowledged bathroom custodian is one of my fondest memories of childhood. Fun Fact: John Cowsill, who was the object of my pre-teen desires, is still going strong as one of the drummers for The Beach Boys.
Hope you enjoy this old tale from the early days of Praying for Eyebrowz.
https://nananoyz5forme.com/2014/08/05/cleaning-bathrooms-and-taking-names/
Snapshot #193
My first lesson in the Irish language took place in a ladies’ room in Ireland. The word Mná, is pronounced Muh-nā. I’m calling this one, “Gaelic for Dummies!”
Favorite Photos from Ireland
I took so many photos, but some of these are my favorites from the trip to Ireland.
From the Cliffs of Moher:
From the grounds at Doonbeg:
At Saint Mary’s Cathedral in Killarney:
Random stuff:
Oldie #3: Rower’s Remorse
My husband, Studly Doright, and I recently purchased a home, Doright Manor, on a small lake near Tallahassee, Florida. We are not lake people. We are Texas panhandle people, born and raised in the dry, dusty plains and ill-prepared to handle any body of water larger than the occasional rain puddle.
When we bought our lake home we both envisioned rowing hither and yon around our lake for hours on end, working those muscles that spend too many hours typing on a keyboard and too few doing actual labor. We were going to get in shape! To that end, Studly bought us a two-person kayak. Thank goodness he had the foresight to purchase a fishing kayak–broad on the bottom and damned near impossible to tip over.
Our first venture into the world of kayaking was tense. I yelled. He cried. Or maybe it was the other way around. At any rate, that was just the part where we tried to get into the vessel without getting wet. After several borderline pornographic physical manipulations, Studly and I found ourselves seated in the appropriate slots. To us it made sense that he take the front seat and I take the back. Him: Strong. Me: Weak. We: Wrong.
The back person does all the hard work. All of it. The front person is just there to look pretty and occasionally help steer. We discovered this at the halfway point. There was no way we could switch places without one of us getting drenched. I had to shoulder the load–the big load where the pretty one should be.
Slowly I rowed. Inch by painful inch I paddled and an hour later we found ourselves at our dock confronted with a final challenge. How the heck do we get out of this infernal thing? My arms were shot and Studly couldn’t get enough leverage to pull himself up onto the dock. You see, boats don’t stay still when you pull them into the dock. No. They continue to move in all sorts of ways. Back. Forth. Sideways. They rock and roll. They Zumba.
But, we are not quitters. Nossirree. Neither of us wanted to die out on that lake mere yards from our own back door. “Let’s back the boat away from the dock,” said Studly. “We’ll aim for that grassy area beside the dock, get a running start and shoot onto dry land.”
“Huh?”
“Yea,” he said. “Just help get us out into the inlet and I’ll power us onto the grass.”
“Sure.” Wearily, I pushed against the dock, and then stroke, stroke, stroked out into our little inlet, giving my man plenty of room to make his final stand.
He instructed me to lift my paddle and be ready to spring out of the boat as soon as we hit the shore. Spring. Yep, he said that. I’ve never seen arms work so powerfully. Boom, boom, boom and we hit paydirt. My spring was sprung and I fell onto damp grass, almost, but not quite, touching my lips to the solid ground.
“Quick! Grab the boat!” Studly yelled. Just in time, I caught hold to prevent him from floating away. I steadied the vessel as he rolled out, sprawling in lake mud. I’d have laughed at the sight, but I couldn’t summon the energy.
We both recovered. Slowly. And we’ve been out in our kayak many times since that first one. Every time we learn something new, but getting out never gets easier. I keep intending to google the topic. “How do I get out of my kayak without inflicting mortal wounds on my partner?” The good news? I think I’m developing an arm muscle. But it might be a mosquito bite. Time will tell.
Peace, People.
Above is glimpse of our lake taken from the safety of my back porch.
Praying for Eyebrowz 