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Looking for some light

December 24, 2014

For five days and nights we had gales and horizontal sweeps of the rain we like to call ‘misht’.  Mighty wet, for all of that. No sign of the the sun, and the muddied sky was scraping the chimneys.

Matches blew out every time I tried to light the stove. Nerves were getting rattled from lack of unbroken sleep. The weather bulletins at the end of the News mentioned the words ‘breeze’ or ‘occasional gusts’ and were met with expletives. ‘Weather reports for the Dubs. Again’, I muttered, as I got soaked trying to fill the bird feeders, and watched the compost bin blow across the garden.

In the last week, texts, Christmas round-robins and, more recently, phone calls, brought stories of loss, and illnesses ranging from flu to cancer. And I haven’t even started on the news from Australia, Aberdeen, Sryia, and, of course, an Irish  hospital where a young pregnant woman on life-support awaits a Court’s mercy for a dignified death.

So yes, all in all, there was a lot of darkness around. It felt like a shkelp-load of dementors had decided to leave Azkaban and take up residence in my little corner of the world.


On Monday, I was flicking channels around tea time. I caught the end of TV3’s weather report.  ‘The solstice was on Saturday’, said the weatherman. ‘Here’s a photo of the sun at Tara. And here’s another taken in Newgrange.’

SUN? In Ireland? Last weekend? It was almost unbelievable.

c. "through a chink too wide there comes in no wonder" -  ADVENT by Patrick Kavanagh

“through a chink too wide there comes in no wonder” – ADVENT by Patrick Kavanagh

The sun was shining.

It was just somewhere else. 

It would come back.

Today, Christmas Eve, most of the preparations have been done. There’s eight for Christmas dinner at my place tomorrow; eight of the people I hold most precious in the world. Quite frankly, if the turkey burns – it doesn’t matter. (Although, we’d enjoy ourselves a tad more if I managed to get it right!) One of my visitors is my eldest niece Leah who, as a very young child, said to her Mum one family-thronged, summer-holidays day: It’s people that are important.

The wind has settled down. The sky has lifted. The sun has appeared in a watery blue, cloud-scarred sky.

There will be clouds again. There will be light again.

It’s people that are important.

Go easy on yourselves.

Happy, tranquil, Christmas to you all.

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