West Cork

April Flowers in the Magic Forest

Enchanting – that’s the word that comes to me when I think of The Magic Forest. Although at first I was drawn to the quirky art installations (see our post from five years ago), as I’ve become more interested in wildflowers I like to photograph them there, since it’s such a special habitat. So here is a selection of early spring photographs from the Magic Forest, to illustrate what a diverse and attractive plant life it hosts.

In their beautiful and comprehensive book, The Wild Flowers of Ireland: The Habitat Guide, Declan Dooge and Carsten Krieger describe what to expect in a native woodland. First and foremost, there are in fact very few native woodlands left in Ireland, of the kind of oak forests we might have seen in medieval times. However, the little woods that surround the Magic Forest fit their definition of an acid-soil natural woodland, with trees not so dense that light cannot penetrate, and lots of moisture underfoot giving ferns and mosses (below) a friendly environment. A visit to an undamaged native woodland, they state, is a remarkable experience.

While the Magic Forest is probably not as pristine and undamaged as it could be (it’s in the middle of farmed land, after all) it has been left to flourish intact for many years, thanks to the stewardship of Thomas Wiegandt, whose interventions have only added to the fairytale quality of the woods.

What we see inside is an excellent representation of an Irish woodland habitat in as unmanaged a situation as possible. Walking through it in early spring is an ethereal experience – I defy you not to be moved.

That is not to say that all the plants we find in it are all truly native – for example, the Yellow Archangel flower that flourishes here (above) is a garden escape that has naturalised widely across Ireland. There is a native Archangel, but we know this one is the introduced variety because of the silver markings on the leaves.

Dooge and Krieger point to the presence of Early Dog-violet (they call it Wood Violet) in woodland, but in fact what I have found in the Magic Forest are two types of violet – the Common Dog-violet (above) which is everywhere in West Cork right now, and the much less-seen Marsh Violet (below).

Because the Common Dog-violet can turn as it ages from its normal deep blue to the same pale lilac colour as the March Violet, you have to keep a sharp look-out for the differences, but once you see them together they are unmistakable.

One of the nicest aspects of walking in woodland is the soft carpet underfoot. In The Magic Forest this tends to be a bed of Opposite-Leaved Golden-saxifrage (above), which loves damp dark places. This is an interesting flower in that it has no actual petals. The Sepals are bright green and unfold to reveal the stamens which are brown-tipped inside their little bed but shed the brown cover and turn bright yellow when fully open.

Getting right down on the forest floor (a little undignified and hard on clothing) is well worth it as all kinds of flowers are emerging up through the undergrowth. Celandines and Bluebells mingle above, while Celandines and Wood-sorrel cover the banks of a tiny stream (below).

At this time of year, early spring, one of the most attractive species is Wood-sorrel, with its distinctive shamrock-shaped leaves. The delicate purple veining on the petals, leading down to a golden-yellow centre rewards close scrutiny.

Of course, at this time of year, what we all love to go into woodland to see are the Bluebells and The Magic Forest abounds in native Bluebells. If you are wondering what the differences are between Native and non-Native (Spanish) Bluebells, here’s how to tell: we know these are native Bluebells because they have a lovely scent, their petals curl back, the flowers only grow on one side of the stem (the weight of which gives them that characteristic curve over), the anthers are white and the leaves are quite fine. All of these points can be observed in the photograph below – except for the scent! 

Bugle is another flower that loves this kind of environment, although it’s not quite as specialised as the Bluebell – I have seen it on hedgebanks as well where it might be getting moisture but not a lot of shade. Below, the two enjoy each other’s company.

Zoë Devlin, on her website Wildflowers of Ireland (my go-to resource, both print and online, and the best and easiest all round book to introduce you to Irish wildflowers) tells us, In his ‘Complete Herbal’ of 1653, Nicholas Culpeper wrote of Ajuga reptans [Bugle]: ‘if the virtues of it make you fall in love with it (as they will if you be wise) keep a syrup of it to take inwardly, and an ointment and plaster of it to use outwardly, always by you’.  A hand lens is a must for this flower – close up the tiny orchid-like flowers open wide to show their tonsils.

in Southwest Ireland we have a special group of plant species known as the Lusitanian Flora. Here’s a good explanation of what this means from Wikipedia:

The Lusitanian flora is a small assemblage of plants that show a restricted and specific distribution in that they are mostly only to be found in the Iberian Peninsula or southwest Ireland. Generally, the plants are not found in England or western France even though suitable habitat almost certainly exists in those regions. . . . This biogeographical puzzle has been a topic of academic debate since the middle of the 19th century. Conflicting, and as yet unresolved theories centre on whether the Irish populations are a relict, surviving from before the last ice age or whether they have been transported there in the last 10,000 years.

For a complete list of the Lusitanian species, take a look at my other favourite website – Irish Wildflowers by Jenny Seawright.

This is a longwinded way to introduce St Patrick’s Cabbage, the Lusitanian wildflower that crops up in The Magic Forest. The photos I have of it in the forest were taken just after it had started to bloom (above) so the flowers are yet sparse (below). You can see photographs of them in a more advanced phase in this post.

The final flower I want to highlight is the Cuckooflower, which is found in abundance in the fields all around the Magic Forest and to my surprise even inside it, although this is not typically a woodland flower. It likes the damp but it generally prefers open meadows. Besides being delightful, it is where the Orange-tip Butterfly likes to lay its eggs so look out for tiny orangey eggs on the stems. The flower varies in colour from almost pure white to a deep pink.

There is a LOT to see in the Magic Forest – once we are all able to travel again I highly recommend a walk in it (see our original post for directions) – at any time of year. You won’t be disappointed. And thank you, Thomas, for this gift to West Cork!

Robert chose to write about the Magic Forest too this week, but from quite a different perspective! Here’s his post, Mixed Magic Messages.

 

Mixed Magic Messages

We first visited Thomas Wiegandt’s Magic Forest exactly five years ago. It’s just round the corner and over the hill from Ballydehob. As time has passed the walk has matured and mellowed: it’s the most picturesque and atmospheric place now – true magic! Thank you, Thomas, for creating this and for allowing anyone to access it (subject to lockdown limitations, of course)…

As a connoisseur of Irish signs and signage (have a look at my previous posts over the years), this walk is for me a delight and an abundant source of tangible examples from the world of human communication. There are explicit and comprehensible signs, enigmatic ones, symbolic messages, and allegories. It doesn’t matter whether we understand them, or even relate to them personally: it’s just all part of the magic of the forest.

Who are the messengers? That’s really up to you to decide. here are some that I can relate to:

Each time we visit the Magic Forest, we come back with a different set of images. It’s just that there is so much here, you take in what appeals to you at a particular time.

A pantheist might find Gods and Goddesses in this forest… Others might see relics of a fading industrial age. It all depends on your point of view.

The forest itself will take over in the end. It’s certainly the case that, through the years, nature is absorbing everything. But, surely, it’s not a battle – just a mutual enhancement. Finola is definitely on the side of the natural world.

A place to think, meditate – or make music!

The whole place is a collaboration between the arts and nature. Enjoy the journey!

Behold, Their Bright Shining Future Rising Before Them

This is the first in a series of posts being published simultaneously by Roaringwater Journal and the Ballydehob Arts Museum, celebrating 33 years of an aspect of art history in West Cork. The Living Landscape series of art exhibitions ran from 1987 to 1996, masterminded and driven by the energies of Cóilín Murray. Cóilín has recently donated an invaluable file of photographs to the Museum, connected to a sculpture trail which was set up between Skibbereen and Schull in the early 1990s as part of this project. We are indebted to Cóilín for these items, and I will be using many of them in these posts.

Catalogue from the first Living Landscape exhibition, launched by the West Cork Arts centre and the Crawford Gallery, Cork, in 1987. The cover illustration is by Cóilín Murray

It’s fascinating to trace the sculptures which were set up more than 25 years ago along the N71 and R592 roads connecting Skibbereen with Schull. Most have vanished – some back to nature, some through destruction. But those which remain are now ‘enigmatic’ and must often excite comment and questions. This is particularly the case with the one in our header picture (taken recently), which is the central subject of today’s post. It’s a work by Michael Bulfin, born in 1939, one of Ireland’s most respected artists and a member of Aosdána (an association of artists whose work is deemed to have made an outstanding contribution to the creative arts in Ireland). The title of the sculpture is the title of this piece: Behold, Their Bright Shining Future Rising Before Them. 

Michael Bulfin’s exhibition proposal was a piece of land art: a giant grass-covered earth pyramid crowned by a stainless steel pinnacle, with a cascade of boulders flowing down the surface – facing on to the main road running through the townland of Skeaghanore East. Upper, the design for the piece was submitted as a model. Lower – the inscription from the back of the original photograph.

The task of physically realising this monumental piece was the product of many hands, including a number of volunteers from West Cork’s artistic community. The following ‘work in progress’ shots document some captured moments in time.

In this shot, Michael Bulfin is on the ladder, and painter Maurice Desmond watches the process

‘Lunch break on the day the mound was seeded’ – identified in this picture are (foreground left to right): Aoife Desmond, Deirdre Heaney, Mike Bulfin, Rosemary Murray (serving lunch), Ailne Murray and Niamh Murray. (Background): Simon Holler, Cóilín Murray, Gerry Walker and daughter

The project was well publicised; here Mike Bulfin is being interviewed by Anita Whooley for RTE, with Cóilín Murray looking on

The mound ‘greening up’: the stainless steel pinnacle was added at a later date. The ‘cascade of boulders’ is not evident today: I am assured it is still there, shrouded by gorse and brambles

At the official opening of the Living Landscape Sculpture Trail the poet Steve McDonagh, founder of Brandon Books based in Dingle, Co Kerry, read from his work at each location. Steve McDonagh died in November 2010. As can be seen, the pyramid was unfinished on opening day!

Michael Bulfin remains active in Ireland to this day. He lives in Co Offaly, and there is impressive work from him at the Lough Boora Parklands, including the eye-catching ‘Skytrain’ sculpture:

Something that could be considered in the future is a creative project based on the West Cork Sculpture Trail. This might restore or resurrect some of the pieces from the 1990s, and provide an opportunity for new work to take the place of those sculptures which are now lost.

Wooly Jumper

No, that’s not the answer to the old chestnut about what you get when you cross a sheep and a kangaroo – it’s what I got Robert for his birthday this year. But this was no ordinary, off-the-peg, item of clothing but a piece of ethical, made to order, cherish for life, knitwear, hand-crafted in Ireland. That’s a quote from the maker.

First of all, for our non-Irish or non-British readers, a jumper is what you see on Robert in the header photo. It might, over here, also be called a jersey, a pullover, or even (in the depths of the country) a gansey. It’s hardly ever called a sweater.

Secondly, this is a Liadain Aiken design. Liadain isn’t a common name even in Ireland. She was believed to be a 7th century poet (see this article) and the name may mean ‘Grey Lady’. For the correct pronunciation click here.

Liadain and Robert in the nerve-centre of her operations – just outside Ballydehob

I discovered Liadain Aiken through a piece about her knitwear in the Irish Times. I was entranced by the images of colourful scarves, hats and jumpers and noted that the piece said she was in the process of moving to Ballydehob. I got in touch and asked if we could come and choose something for Robert.

That’s how Robert and I found ourselves driving up into the hills behind Ballybane last month, on his birthday, not quite sure what we were going to find. We knew Liadain Aiken Knitwear by some standards fitted the definition of ‘cottage industry’ so perhaps at the back of our minds we couldn’t get rid of that famous image of Peig Sayers knitting by her fireside.

An Muircheartach’s iconic photograph of Peig Sayers, one of the many Blasket Island story-tellers

But what we found was far from Peig – this is modern cottage industry, one that harnesses the power of the internet for distributed manufacturing and online marketing and sales. Liadain is charming, and strikingly attired in her own knitwear, but she is no amateur. With a degree in interior design and further qualifications from the Grafton Academy in Dublin and Knit-1 Studio in Brighton, she is the director and designer for her own team of knitters, many of whom work from home. On her website she says, ‘I strive to create lively and joyful garments that will be cherished for years.’ This kind of statement is music to Robert’s ears.

Although the jumper was a gift from me, Robert got to choose the colours and what followed was a fitting and selection session as it turned out that what really appealed to him was to incorporate as many different colours as possible into the one jumper. (I think he might have a Pied Piper complex but don’t tell him I told you that.) He started off with the selection above and ended up with the one below.

In the process Liadain explained her working methods to us and showed us how a jumper such as this, in multiple colours, is knitted and assembled. She made it look easy but it was obvious that this is a highly-skilled and complex process.

The jumper arrived this week, in the midst of our Coronavirus lockdown, and Robert loves it! I strongly suspect he would sleep in it if he could. You will see it, I predict, in many future posts.

It’s made from pure merino wool from Donegal Yarns – take a look at their website to see the pride they take in producing these beautiful flecked yarns. Of course, a made-to-order product like this is more expensive than an off-the-rack purchase, but both of us loved the process of buying it and see it as a long-term investment piece. As they say here in Ireland, it will ‘see him out.’ 

Liadain is currently catching up on back-orders and designing new products so it’s not possible to order in her shop at the moment. But if you’d like more information, sign up for her newsletter or get in touch with her. If you’re on Instagram or Facebook, follow her there.

Thank you, Liadain – this is a great jumper and a very happy customer! 

Glens of the Scientists

It’s Easter Sunday, but we didn’t see the sun dancing at dawn this morning. In fact, so far it’s the first wet day that we’ve had since we’ve been in ‘lockdown’ because of the Covid 19 crisis. Such a contrast from the view over Roaringwater Bay yesterday (Saturday, see above) when the weather was absolutely flawless: no wind, blue sky over balmy sea, and temperatures akin to midsummer. But for today’s post I’m going back a few weeks to the days when Coronavirus was just something that was happening, in the news, a world away from West Cork – and we were still free to roam the countryside.

Spring equinox came early this year. We were out for it, in a biting east wind but dry under clear skies. Our destination was a vast landscape of glens and hills to the east of Bantry town. The place fascinates us: it is alive with prehistory. There are literally dozens of scheduled monuments spread over many townlands. They include stone circles, standing stones, stone alignments, ancient cairns and other anomalous stone groupings. This is probably one of the west of Ireland’s richest and most concentrated areas which records, through physical remains, human activity from the Neolithic period – the earliest settled farmers – through to the Bronze Age, when the first metallurgists began to explore and exploit the underlying geology of the landscape.

Upper – look carefully – there’s an alignment of three significant standing stones in these fields in Cullomane West, but our first stop was a nearby anomolous stone grouping which included an equinox alignment – (lower) – towards the west horizon

It was pure chance that we were out on the day of the spring (or vernal) equinox – the time when the length of the day equals the length of the night. And pure chance, also, that our first stop, in the townland of Derreengreanagh, presented us with a spring equinox alignment. We had the permission of the landowner to cross her fields to access these stones which are hidden away from any highway or byway. We found two substantial standing stones and a small group of recumbent stones. By checking the relative positions of the two tall stones on a ‘sunseeker’ app, we were able to establish that they line up perfectly with the spring equinox sunrise to the east and the spring equinox sunset to the west. Furthermore, the point at which the sun rises on the eastern horizon on this day is marked by a distant hilltop – also in perfect alignment:

As I look around the glens on our wanderings, I see into the past. I see rich, sheltered meadows watered by natural streams, stunted oak forests, sunlit glades. I feel the warmth of the sun as it gets stronger, contained by the bowl shaped landscapes; I find flocks of sheep which don’t seem to mind our trespassing (carefully) on their domains – they are content with their environment. The place is at peace in its own time.

I try to feel closer to those who dwelled in this relative tranquility thousands of years ago. I can imagine that the shape of the landscape, and its natural offerings, attracted them. They might have been my own distant ancestors, or yours. But they were no different from you and me. Their lives were technologically unlike ours, but we can’t suppose that their responses to what was around them would be unrecognisable to us. They would have welcomed the abundance which fed them, through their ability to understand the principles of sowing and harvesting; they were able to make shelters from natural materials – wood, stone and furze. But, beyond the practicalities, surely they would have seen wonder in nature. How could they not respond to the ever changing light, the vastness of the sky, the awesome infinity of the stars? The strange movements of sun and moon… The constancy of things all around them?

Hiding in nature: this five-stone circle in Baurgorm townland is heavily overgrown and guarded by thorn trees, yet it survives: its orientation and the alignment of the stones was undoubtedly deliberate

The next townland over from Derreengreanagh is Baurgorm, where our researches were rewarded with an almost intact five-stone circle. Within site of this is another stone alignment (see picture 3 above), and several other scheduled monuments are nearby. There is no ‘Stonehenge’ or ‘Newgrange’ in these glens: everything is relatively low-key and is unlikely to impress the average 21st century sightseer. Yet these stones are still there, set in the landscape where they were first placed – with a purpose – in these glens so many generations ago.

Walking the glens: walking through prehistory

In my opinion (and this is only my opinion, remember), the people who lived in these glens were our earliest scientists, and the surviving ancient stones are the hard evidence of their science. They were observing and recording the world they saw around them and marking the elements of that world which were of the greatest significance. One of these must have been the solar cycle. The equinoxes were of paramount importance: through the half-year after the spring equinox the days were longer, lighter and warmer, while through the half-year after the autumn equinox, their world was darker and colder with short days and long nights. The alignment of the standing stones at Derreengreanagh marks this calendrical division with great accuracy, and must have taken a great deal of time and human endeavour to set up. The shape of the terrain, the undulations of the horizon, and the daily progression of the sun had to be understood and integrated into a  construction so monumental that it has survived intact for 3,000 years or more. There’s nothing magic about this, or mystic or religious: it’s pure science.

Not just the sun, but the phases of the moon and the trajectories of the stars would have been observed and studied by our ancestors. What came before Christianity in Ireland? St Patrick’s work was to convert the Irish, but all he says in his own Confessio about them is that they worshipped ‘idols and unclean things’. But he also refers to ‘all those who adore’ the sun. That’s a fascinating concept: ‘adoration of the sun’. Patrick didn’t use the phrase worship of the sun. but he had specifically mentioned worship of idols. I could be reading too much into the Confessio as it has come down to us, but the concept of ‘adoring’ as opposed to ‘worship’ fits well with the idea of Ireland’s earliest settled people being obsessively concerned with the movement of this source of light, heat – and life. In the remotest regions of West Cork we find an ancient wisdom.

Living in Lockdown!

Main Street, Ballydehob: 4 April 2020. You’ve never seen it like this before on a Saturday morning. We are only out because we have urgent shopping to do. We are permitted to go to the shops, the dispensary and the dump (we live too far out of town to have any waste collections). Oh, and we can exercise within a two kilometre radius of home (here’s Finola’s account of that). It’s a strange life – but we are gratefully alive…

We completed our last ‘long’ walk on Friday 27 March – to the summit of Mount Corrin, for my Mizen Mountains post. On that evening the government announced the ‘lockdown’ and we are now isolated in Cappaghglass for the foreseeable future, although the 2km restriction will allow us to trespass into our adjacent townlands of Stouke, Cappanacallee, Foilnamuck, Rossbrin, Ballycummisk and Kilbronogue, provided we keep our distance from other walkers. We see very few.

When the sun is shining, there’s no better place to be than home – looking out over Roaringwater Bay! We have plenty to occupy us. Not least, keeping up with this journal and my new venture Swantonstown Sessions – compensation for the enforced adjournment of the weekly traditional music meetings in Ballydehob. It’s an online forum for sharing tunes, songs and related ‘chat’. Please join in!

There’s not much activity in Schull, our other centre for essential supplies, either. The main street (upper) and pier (above) are deserted on Saturday morning, when it’s normally buzzing. All the businesses in our villages and towns rely on customers: we hope for their sakes (and ours) that the situation doesn’t last too long, although we do all understand how necessary the restrictions are.

Join us for one of our walks – along to Rossbrin – to look at the water and the always changing scenery as spring gets under way. That’s the boreen leading down to it, above.

Rossbrin Castle, the home of the ‘Scholar Prince’ Finghinn O’Mahony in medieval times, is the local landmark which always draws us towards the Cove. It has stood for centuries, although very gradually returning to nature: parts of it will remain for generations to come, and will intrigue those who chance upon it, as I first did some thirty years ago. It is on private land, remember, but it can be seen from many accessible vantage points.

It’s no hardship to be ‘marooned’ out here in rural Ireland. The one thing we miss above all else is meeting and chatting with friends and neighbours: that’s unnatural. But we will survive it. After our walks there’s always the road home to look forward to (do you see the celandines lining the way?):

Roaringwater Journal wishes to heartily thank all those in our communities who are supporting the rural population through these abnormal times: medical teams, pharmacies, shopkeepers, producers and suppliers . . . All who keep our facilities and utilities going . . . They are helping us to stay healthy and upbeat in times of disquiet. We appreciate all of you.