Smoothly into Fall

Although the light is still bleak in her appearance, she has already overcome the darkness of the worn night.

day is breakingDAY IS BREAKING

One of pureness is the atmosphere, open to embrace the day to come.

atmosphere of purenessATMOSPHERE OF PURENESS

embracing the day to comeEMBRACING THE DAY TO COME

From above, the sea looks calm and flat and every inch in the colouring of the sky is reflected on her surface. The view is clear. The Twelve Bins, the mountains in Connemara, though far away, I can easily count as I also can see a shower in its’ development above the sea.
It will only take a wee while I suppose, before the first birds will find their way into the air again. At the moment however there is still silence.

still in their sleepingSTILL IN THEIR SLEEPING

Step by step though the enchantment of the night is diluted into the day

the first one to fly todayTHE FIRST ONE TO FLY TODAY

the last flowers into bloomTHE LAST FLOWERS OF THE SEASON INTO BLOOM

As the quality of the night gradually dilutes into the day so takes the season of Fall the lead of the tail of Summer. The hissing sounds of the bicycle tyres hitting the heated tarmac and the squeaking voices of their brakes, just down the bottom of the hill at the crossroads, have faded by now as has the eye-catcher of vibrant colours of summer clothing.

freshly tied strawFRESHLY TIED STRAW

Gently though, the thread of the chorus of daily life is taken up again at the moment the schools and the hosting families have welcomed their familiar and new pupils from the mainland again, eager to make the best out of the term ahead.

Besides the earnest of taking up daily life afresh there are, thanks be to God, of course moments of pure sunshine too in which one can revolve oneself once more as if holidays are still there. Letting go and taking distance of one’s daily life just as the visiting librarian must have acted. Feeling cherished in another world she just looked at hours of opening and forgot to read which amenity was actually concerned.


Slán go fóill,
Elisabeth from Inis Meáin

Unexpected present

Having drunk in the last words I heard myself saying: please, encore. I enjoyed every second of it and I felt eagerly to be in it once more.
It was at the art festival in Galway that ‘Waiting for Godot’, written in the sixties of the last century by Samuel Becket, an Irish playwright, was performed in the Druid Theatre by the Druid company, not long ago.

For a play it is not unusual that it is performed many a time but that only some days later this same play was performed too on Inis Meáin for two times in a row and in the open air….!

I kept my fingers crossed that the weather would clear up and so it did. And although it was a cloudy night the seats and even some mats for the youngest in the audience were set ready and off it started. ‘There is nothing to be done. Nobody comes, nobody goes’ Gogo complaints.
Barbara M. Bannon, an American theatre critic happened to be on vocation on Inis Meáin at the night of performance. I am very grateful to her that she kindly responded my question to write her review on the performance. She also took some photo’s.
Hereafter follows her critic:
One character sits slumped on a stone, vainly struggling to get his shoe off. The other stands silhouetted against the falling twilight on the top of the hill behind him, then walks slowly down into the playing area.

Didi and GogoDidi and Gogo

This is the opening image in Druid Theatre Company’s wistful and compelling production of Samuel Beckett’s classic Irish black comedy, “Waiting for Godot.” The play is being performed in an appropriately bleak landscape on Inis Méain, the middle Aran Island, as part of Druid Theatre’s mission to bring theatre to rural populations.
Their names are Vladimir or Didi and Estragon, known as Gogo, and Marty Rea and Aaron Monaghan couldn’t be better suited—physically and emotionally—to play them. Rea’s tall, thin Didi is a born philosopher, always in motion, constantly searching for the answer to life’s questions. He holds out hope that the mysterious and elusive Godot will come. “And if he comes?” Gogo asks. “We’ll be saved,” Didi answers, trying to sound confident.

Monaghan’s shorter, more compact Gogo is a pessimist, convinced “there is nothing to be done.” “Nobody comes, nobody goes,” he complains, and continually asks Didi, “What do we do now?” When Didi proclaims he is happy, Gogo asks, “What are we to do now that we are happy?” If he only had “a bit of rope,” he would hang himself. Monaghan’s world-weary, slump-shouldered air of resignation perfectly captures Gogo’s hopelessness and frustration.

Suddenly the play’s other two characters, Pozzo (Rory Nolan) and Lucky (Garrett Lombard), disrupt Didi and Gogo’s ennui. Nolan’s Pozzo is an egotistical, burly bully of a man—“Is everybody looking at me?” he vainly asks—and his domination of Lucky (who is decidedly unlucky) gives Beckett the chance to show how the powerful manipulate those more vulnerable. Lombard’s Lucky has the dumb, dazed look of a beast of burden, but ironically, Pozzo is completely dependent on him.

Lucky, Gogo and DidiLucky, Gogo and Didi

What enables Didi and Gogo to survive is their camaraderie. In one of the play’s tenderest moments, Didi rocks Gogo to sleep and shares his coat with him. Later the two dance together.
Garry Hynes’ insightful direction deftly balances the play’s pathos and black humor, and the audience vacillates between laughter and empathy with the characters’ plight. Francis O’Connor’s stark set with its single stylized tree and pair of reflecting screens conveys Didi and Gogo’s isolation, and Jim Ingalls’ subtle lighting deepens the melancholy feeling.
“Waiting for Godot” questions the meaning of life as it entertains
by Barbara M. Bannon

After the last couple of phrases have been spoken a soft rain starts to fall upon us. Indulged in deep gratitude we all find our way back to the road.

Slán go fóill,
Elisabeth from Inis Meáin

Summer holidays

It was only shortly after we celebrated the festival of Saint John. Until then, before Midsummer, the rising of the sun seemed boundless. Merely a few hours of darkness filled the night.

merely a few hours of darknessMerely a few hours of darkness

Then there was this sudden dropdown of light. The light was dimmed within a fraction of time. It felt dramatic. What lately felt like freedom, unlimited expanding itself, changed suddenly. A border was set around that what gradually was acquired.
Summer is over so it seemed to me. In a second I saw the quality of this time of year: freed of any care feeling lifted towards the unlimited skies negating gravitation. Every year anew this happens but did I oversleep the moment just now, I wondered.

feeling lifted towards the unlimited skiesFeeling lifted towards the unlimited skies

fruit of summerFruit of summer

In the meantime summer still is, her quality in tone however is slowly changing. The flowers along the shore, boreens and in the fields are still blooming and even some new ones like the meadowsweet have come into bloom recently.

meadowsweet in bloomMeadowsweet in bloom

The general resilience of before though has vanished. On the contrary flowers and grasses bend heavily under their weight. Others, like the wild garlic are obviously forming seed and in this transformation not only the flower is involved but also its’ stem and leaves.

wild garlic in metamorphosisWild garlic in metamorphosis

Withering and metamorphosing express chaos in nature now. A kind of – in between- time dawns though in the process of reshuffling. The overall atmosphere opens gradually for gratitude to flourish and becomes one of feeling enshrouded and sheltered. Summer is fulfilled herewith.
The setting at this time of year is specific on Inis Meáin. The roads are dominated now by prams and children with their families visiting the island. In colourful clothing they are racing on bikes from up to down the hill and doing their best in climbing the steep terraces without alighting, thereafter.
It is also the season of reunion. Members of island families once set off for countries overseas to make a living, reunite with siblings and other relatives for a vocation culminating in celebrating Lá Fhéil’ Lúnasa festival or the feast of Autumn here on the island.
Summer holidays. Freed of any care, happily reunite with one another.

freed of any careFreed of any care

Slán go fóill,
Elisabeth from Inis Meáin

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