I have experienced birthdays abroad where the celebration was solitary, as well as memorable moments like climbing Mount Errigal in Donegal and swimming and fishing in the lake below during my 30th summer. Birthdays hold significance in marking the beginning of a new year and setting the tone for the future. They serve as a measure of what lies ahead.
Recently, I spent my birthday in the company of my father. Throughout this time, I have been caring for our weanlings on the hill farm, patiently waiting for them to grow into healthy animals. Last Saturday, we made the decision to sell the first five bullocks at the mart. We loaded up the cattle and made our way to Drumshanbo, Co Leitrim for the organic sale. Farmers from all corners of the region were present with their livestock.
Arriving early, we took a walk around town and grabbed a coffee. Despite there being a traditional music festival, the pubs were not yet playing any tunes. We had a delightful conversation with men from the North, who shared stories of their lives. Leitrim, a beautiful county, is known for its many livestock marts and rich history. It reminds me of John McGahern, who spent his days in the county farming just like me. As McGahern aptly stated, the local reflects the universal, a truth I have discovered as well. Every place has its own unique characteristics, and by understanding those qualities, we gain insight into its essence.
When the sale began, we patiently waited for our turn and got down to business. Selling in the organic sales was a new experience for us, but we left the mart office satisfied with our prices. After spending the summer observing and waiting, we successfully sold five bullocks to new owners.So much of farming is about patience and observation, knowing when an animal is healthy or unwell, when a field is ready to be harvested. Writing also resembles this process. It requires studying and reading, with the hope that the words put on paper create something substantial and meaningful, something that remains with the reader long after they finish reading.
After the mart, we made our way back to town and heard the lively tunes of traditional music emanating from a pub. On a whim, we entered, sporting our farm clothes and wellingtons. No one paid any mind to our appearance; they were there for the music, not to critique fashion choices. We sat, basking in the melodies, and engaged in conversations about life, music, and even fires in Greece. My father shared details about Patrick Kavanagh’s life from the biography he had been reading. We conversed with the other patrons of the pub, clapping and eagerly awaiting each new tune. It was a simple yet beautiful day. Since returning to Ireland seven years ago, I have developed a profound love for farming and traditional music.
They say that every seven years, we are essentially new people as our cells, skin, and hair completely regenerate. I have found this to be true, as the urban-loving individual I once was has transformed into a country gentleman. The once fervent traveler now cherishes local experiences even more. It was a day when I saw my father as an adult and recognized the profound importance of the bond we share. The connections between fathers and sons or daughters and mothers are truly special. If one is fortunate enough to have such a bond, there is much to be enjoyed beyond mere familial obligations.
After an hour of musical bliss, we decided it was time to hit the road as my wife needed my assistance in caring for our son during his first year. Family is an incredible thing, as the chain continues to grow. There is now another generation beyond my father and me, ensuring that our name and the bonds it represents persist.
This birthday has given me much to be grateful for. I have both my health and my family. Although I didn’t conquer Errigal on my 37th birthday, the hill country of Leitrim proved to be more than enough. In the future, I may bring my son to a bullock sale, where we can discuss life, art, and listen to soul-stirring music in an intimate Irish pub. It is crucial to value our parents and cherish the good days. As I entered the house, I held my son close and hoped that we would have many wonderful days together, just like the one I had experienced. Perhaps that is my current wish – to focus less on myself and more on the future generations. This is a lesson my father has taught me and one I will impart to my son when the time comes. Indeed, it rings true, my friends. It rings true.
Denial of responsibility! VigourTimes is an automatic aggregator of Global media. In each content, the hyperlink to the primary source is specified. All trademarks belong to their rightful owners, and all materials to their authors. For any complaint, please reach us at – [email protected]. We will take necessary action within 24 hours.
