At the 7th Annual Fleadh Ceoil Irish Music Festival
last weekend at CuNaMara restaurant in Bristol, the beer helped beat the heat – I chose Harp, my husband went for Guinness. Lots of music and happy folks appreciating it. For me the beat of a bodhran is like a heart beat – I could listen all day. And I did, pretty much. We stayed four hours, just sitting at a table under a tent taking in the sounds and sights and smells of burgers frying and taste of bangers and chips. The giant fuzzy pint of Guinness that walked around and made friendly noises was a particular treat. And there was, of course, the one leprechaun. After four hours though, I was all worn out from sitting, so we got in the car to sit some more.
Took the back way home around Newfound Lake. Everything’s extra green this summer. We’ve had a lot of rain – thunderstorms almost daily. The landscape usually begins to brown up in August. Not this year. The fields are as lush as they were in June. As we drove the backwoods, all the green and the stone walls reminded me of Ireland. We’ve visited Ireland four times over the years. The first time we went in search of ancestors and to visit my Great-Aunt Annie at the family homestead. We found out that Annie’s father, my great- grandfather, had been born at an estate, complete with castle, in Portumna, and that the stone remnants of his thatched hut could still be seen.
So we struck out one evening across a golf course to get to an overgrown road that led to the hut. A couple of locals were playing golf and asked what we were up to. “We’re here researching the family,” I said. “Looking for relatives.”
“You Americans,” the Irishman said, “you’re always looking for your relatives. I spend me time avoiding mine.”
Up there to your right is a picture from the Irish Festival. The band on stage is a motley assemblage of musicians who volunteered on the spur of the moment to play some jigs and reels for dancers from the Murray School of Dance in Stratham. How their legs flew! Note the traditional Irish-Hawaiian costumes.
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