Saturday, May 14, 2011: Ballyvaughan, Co. Clare, Ireland
I slept in again today until 9:30 only to get out of bed when Breada turned on the heat. I had went to bed last night at 2:30 a.m. I spent the day writing and getting familiar with the bouzouki I purchased in Galway on Thursday afternoon. A bouzouki has eight strings and plays much like my octave mandolin, except the two G and two D strings are tuned an octave apart. The bouzouki I purchased was not a very expensive one, thus not a professional instrument but it has a nice sound to it.
Sarah Snape went with me to Galway in order to find information about buses to Connemara for a weekend trip. Sarah is also interested in music –she purchased a Mandolin in Galway. We arrived back in Ballyvaughan around 7:20 and went in to Greene’s Pub in order for Sarah to keep an appointment with the BCA artist in residence Nora –Nora was going to accompany Sarah to Connemara for the weekend.
We put our newly bought instruments down near a table, ordered beverages and waited for Nora. As we were waiting a local man pointed to my instrument in its case and asked, “What do you have there?”. I recognized him as one of the local musicians, I explained that I just purchased a bouzouki in Galway and offered him the opportunity to take a look at it. He took the instrument out of its case, sat down, tuned it up and started playing. He made it sound beautiful. I found it very encouraging.
I met Tom for dinner at Logue’s Lodge around 7:30, after dinner Tom invited a Ballyvaughan women over to our table for a beverage. Tom had been on friendly terms with this woman since he spent a summer in Ballyvaughan several years ago. The woman’s daughter had recently passed away and she talked with us about how supportive the church and community had been and how much help they were to her. Tom and I walked her a short distance to her home and then visited Greene’s in anticipation of a music session with Chris Droney that evening.
Green’s Pub was busy, so Tom and I went to the back of the pub in the “snug”. Soon the musicians started setting up and it was clear that they had chosen the “snug” as the place they were to perform. There were musicians from all over Clare, about 12 of them including Chris Droney. There were playing concertinas, fiddles, guitars, bouzoukis, accordions, bodhrans, spoons –and they took turns singing. Most of the singing was a capella –a woman sang the most beautiful version of Stephen Foster’s “Old Folks at Home” I have ever heard. I was spell bound –I felt like I was in one of those stories where a person stumbles into “faerieland” where there is no such thing as time as we know it and all are happy and joyous. I indeed lost track of time, as people do in faerieland –when I returned home it was nearly 2:00 a.m.
This morning while I was sipping my coffee in front of the fireplace I came across these words from Burren resident and writer Sarah Poyntz written in the magazine “Burren Insight”:
” . . . . when I saw the Burren –it was the area around Ballyvaughan –I could scarely take in the reality. Here I was faced with a landscape stripped to bare reality, the bare reality of the earth on which we live and have our being, that which shapes every region in the world even the luxuriously lush, the prolifically fertile –stone. I observed the Burren’s limestone pavements, walls of stone, hills of rock and I found truth and beauty, the truth of the region’s hard reality, the beauty of the light gliding over the bare hills and ancient ruins turning them to deep blue, violet silver and gold, a light ever-changing just as the flowers change from season to season and wildlife and indeed our farmers have to adapt to wind, rain, storm, floods and ice. We may feel awe in contemplating this truth, this beauty but it is not the awe that diminishes us because it is within our human scale. Artist and writers come to the Burren and find in it the very core of their inspiration. Scientists arrive and find the basis for their research. We live in it and somehow it changes us into poets and researchers although we may never write a line. And all the while our farmers work the land, maintaining the wild flowers of the valleys and fields, a perfect contrast to the bare and encircling hills. The Burren has power, the power to transform us.
Breada just knocked on my door with a drawing board that Robert just dropped off for me. I shall draw the rest of the afternoon.
























