MEMORY LANE: In a 2002 issue of Dublin's "Ireland of the Welcomes" magazine, Willie WALSH recalls his Irish childhood: "My first encounters in the great outdoors, a tiny figure moving about in waist high, luscious grass, the smell of the nearby farmyard, the huge, silent sky, deep blue, grazed by slow, white herds of faceless sheep, shepherded by a perfect sun. Here I stood, the universe before me. Red or orange ladybirds, their backs polka spotted, crawled everywhere, so common they could easily be caught and allowed walk across one's hand any summer's day. How long would they stay exploring palms? Then, wonder unfurling, their tiny wings came out from beneath their spotted jackets and took to imperfect, wandering flight. Bees that came and went in quiet concentration. Large black and yellow striped ones, their legs orange with pollen; their dowdy smaller cousins of the hive, always working, ceaselessly, filling the fields with gentle music. Their larder work-place, the countless white- petalled daisies to the edge of sight, the purple or green flowered clovers, the yellow ranks of dogweed, the tall thistles. Fence post, grey and solid, between them kept the cows from entering the garden. They stood gazing through with curiosity at this small creature, its blonde baby hair lying like a question unspoken, its hands reaching out to wet, grassy muzzles. Their hides of many colours, tan brown, black with white patterns, their tails, alive, flicking flies. Eyes, brown and long-lashed, stared through the divide. The world of the outside; the one of within. Brilliant colours filled my childhood world. Not the colours of a modern playroom, but the hues that nature bestowed around us and of which, then as now, I could never grow weary. For some, memory is a fading book, something tinged and edged with sadness. My recollections are long still and wide, from low among the grasses to the dizzy heights of eagles. Filled with the wonder, I am blessed and count my blessings."

Hello Jean That was another lovely one. How's plans going for the trip? Gilly Gill - in Wales ----- Original Message ----- From: "Jean R." <jeanrice@cet.com> To: <IRELAND-L@rootsweb.com> Sent: Monday, February 06, 2006 7:07 AM Subject: [IRELAND] Recollections, Willie WALSH -- "Colours of Childhood" (contemp.) > MEMORY LANE: In a 2002 issue of Dublin's "Ireland of the Welcomes" > magazine, Willie WALSH recalls his Irish childhood: > > "My first encounters in the great outdoors, a tiny figure moving > about in waist high, luscious grass, the smell of the nearby > farmyard, the huge, silent sky, deep blue, grazed by slow, white > herds of faceless sheep, shepherded by a perfect sun. > > Here I stood, the universe before me. Red or orange ladybirds, > their backs polka spotted, crawled everywhere, so common they > could easily be caught and allowed walk across one's hand any > summer's day. How long would they stay exploring palms? Then, > wonder unfurling, their tiny wings came out from beneath their > spotted jackets and took to imperfect, wandering flight. Bees that > came and went in quiet concentration. Large black and yellow > striped ones, their legs orange with pollen; their dowdy smaller > cousins of the hive, always working, ceaselessly, filling the fields > with gentle music. Their larder work-place, the countless white- > petalled daisies to the edge of sight, the purple or green > flowered clovers, the yellow ranks of dogweed, the tall thistles. > > Fence post, grey and solid, between them kept the cows from > entering the garden. They stood gazing through with curiosity at > this small creature, its blonde baby hair lying like a question > unspoken, its hands reaching out to wet, grassy muzzles. Their > hides of many colours, tan brown, black with white patterns, their > tails, alive, flicking flies. Eyes, brown and long-lashed, stared > through the divide. The world of the outside; the one of within. > > Brilliant colours filled my childhood world. Not the colours of > a modern playroom, but the hues that nature bestowed around us > and of which, then as now, I could never grow weary. For some, > memory is a fading book, something tinged and edged with > sadness. My recollections are long still and wide, from low among > the grasses to the dizzy heights of eagles. Filled with the wonder, > I am blessed and count my blessings." > > > ==== IRELAND Mailing List ==== > Ireland Mailing List website..surname registry, links, lookup > volunteers,unsubscribe, change your subscription from L to D or D to L > http://www.connorsgenealogy.com/IrelandList/ > >