Irish Summer

Forty Shades of Green and Grey

By Jamie Martin

July 1^st, 2022

Sunday in the Park

We landed in Dublin on a mid-summer morning, trading Atlanta's sticky heat for low 60s and a crisp coastal breeze. A chatty cabbie shared his stories and local history, then dropped us at St. Stephen's Green. While our hotel room was readied, we wandered through the park, enjoying the vivid hues and vibrant people of a slow Sunday. Clouds walked along with us, hiding or revealing bright patches of blue. A light mist came and went, watering the gardens glistening with life.

When war came to St Stephen's Green during the Easter Rising of 1916, the park superintendent refused to leave, insisting he stay to feed the ducks.

"Think you're escaping and run into yourself. Longest way round is the shortest way home."

— James Joyce

Baile Átha Cliath

Exploring Dublin is a history lesson told in layers. Every city block tells centuries of stories: one hundred years ago, Joyce lived here; two hundred years ago, a famine; four hundred years ago, a brutal war; a thousand years before that, the Romans; a thousand more, the Vikings. And for eons, a black river running through the turning pages of time: the dubh lind.

Peace in the Valley

"Better pass boldly into that other world, in the full glory of some passion, than fade and wither dismally with age."

— James Joyce

Round the Ring of Kerry

Unwinding 111 miles of coastline along Ireland's most picturesque drive, our little rental explored the Ring of Kerry. Encircling the Dingle Peninsula, the Wild Atlantic Way showcases the fairytale beauty and allure of the Emerald Isle.

Lush green fields dotted with sheep unfurl towards sweeping vistas with rugged cliffs and golden sand. Every twenty minutes or so, a quaint village offers us a break from the damp, hypnotic curves, cobbling the verdant majesty with stone walls and old pubs. The weather changes constantly, clouds casting a shadowplay across the rolling hills.

"To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all."

— Oscar Wilde

Connemara, County Galway

Kylemore Abbey

Kylemore Abbey is a beautiful, historic castle built in 1871 by Mitchell Henry, a wealthy English businessman and politician. Henry created Kylemore as a gift for his wife, Margaret Vaughan Henry, who had fallen in love with the natural beauty of Connemara during their honeymoon.

Tragically, Margaret died suddenly in 1874 during a family vacation in Egypt, leaving Mitchell and their nine children devastated.

During our visit, we were midway through a major renovation of our 1925 home, causing me to reflect on two things: Henry had faster builders, and there was no way we were going to Egypt anytime soon.

In 1903, Kylemore Abbey was sold to the Duke and Duchess of Manchester, but they were unable to maintain the estate due to financial difficulties. In 1920, it was purchased by the Benedictine Nuns, who had fled Belgium during World War I. The nuns established a boarding school for girls at Kylemore Abbey, which operated until 2010.

Today, Kylemore Abbey is a popular tourist attraction, managed by the Kylemore Trust, with the Benedictine Nuns still residing on the property.

Another Round

“Everything in moderation, including moderation.”

— Oscar Wilde

Doors of Dublin

Kilkenny

The Rock of Cashel

The Rock of Cashel is a collection of medieval buildings in County Tipperary.

In 1647, during the Irish Confederate Wars, Parliamentarians led by Oliver Cromwell and Murrough O'Brien, laid siege to the Rock of Cashel. When O'Brien's forces captured the fortress, they committed a massacre of both the defending soldiers and the townspeople who had taken refuge in the church.

Approximately 3,000 people were killed in the attack, including women, children, and clergymen.

Country Fresh

Finding greens on the menu is hard on this verdant island, but the Irish table is a feast of fish, fowl and farmlife. Warm brown bread accompanies most meals, soul mate to a deep, dark pint. From Dublin to Galway, fresh ingredients and honest food is the rule. Every pub seems capable of award-level fried Hake, nestled in a pillowy batter, wrapped in a crisp crust.