Its a Wonderful, Wonderful Life in the Killarney National Park
Grounds Keepers House
Killarney National Park
Irish Landscape Photography : Nigel Borrington
Life as a grounds keeper at the National Park of Killarney, must have been a hard one at times, however what a life this must have been working and living with these surroundings.
What a Wonderful, Wonderful life !
They say you get use too these views ?
Killarney National Park a Gallery
Barley Lake, Glengarrif, county Cork
Barley Lake, Glengarrif, county Cork
Nikon D7000
Irish Landscape photography : Nigel Borrington
Barley Lake, Glengarrif, county Cork
Spending last week staying in Glengarrif, west county Cork I have just started to look at some of the Landscape photo’s taken during the week.
Glengarrif is located on the south east of the Beara Peninsula, west cork and is one of the most feature filled locations in Ireland, with (Mountains, nature reserves, rivers, Lakes and a wonderful coastline).
Barley Lake is located high above the town about as high as you can get a lake, sheep being its only visitors for most of the Year. The walk up is long but great fun as the views along the route are just wonderful.
I will post a full Gallery soon along with lots of the other great local locations I visited during the week.
Just For now the above image is a full view of Barley lake with its surrounding hills and wonderful Landscape setting. The image was created by stitching eleven separate images into one panoramic view.
Afternoon At The Lake, Poem By : Sandi Vander Sluis
Carraigbraghan lake, county Waterford
Irish Landscape Photography : Nigel Borrington
Afternoon At The Lake
by Sandi Vander Sluis
I sit by the lake on this wondrous day,
watching the reflection of flowering trees,
rippling past watching appreciative eyes.
Breathing in the smell of glorious summer,
as chattering frogs and birds sing,
their way of celebrating the new season.
The lush green forest surrounds and protects me.
Soft fluffy white clouds in the blue sky above
play peekaboo with the bright yellow sun.
I feel a peaceful feeling overtaking me
and my spirits seem to soar from within
just like the eagle circling, floating above.
The wind softly whispers through the trees,
as I rest on the soft green bed beneath me,
drinking it all in – glad to be one with nature.
The Children of Lir
Swans at Haywood house Gardens
Nature and Wildlife photography : Nigel Borrington
The Children of Lir is a very old Irish legend. The original Irish title is “Clann Lir or Leanaí Lir”, but Lir is the genitive case of Lear. Lir is more often used as the name of the character in English. The legend is part of the Irish Mythological Cycle, which consists of numerous prose tales and poems found in medieval manuscripts.
The Children of Lir
Long ago there lived a king called Lir. He lived with his wife and four children: Fionnuala, Aodh, Fiachra and Conn. They lived in a castle in the middle of a forest. When Lir’s wife died they were all very sad. After a few years Lir got married again. He married a jealous wife called Aoife.
Aoife thought that Lir loved his children more than he loved her. Aoife hated the children. Soon she thought of a plan to get rid of the children.
One summer’s day Aoife took the children to swim in a lake near the castle. The children were really happy to be playing in the water. Suddenly Aoife took out a magic wand. There was a flash of light and the children were nowhere to be seen. All there was to be seen was four beautiful swans, with their feathers as white as snow.
Aoife said, “I have put you under a spell. You will be swans for nine hundred years,” she cackled. “You will spend three hundred years in Lough Derravaragh, three hundred years in the Sea of Moyle and three hundred years in the waters of Inish Glora,” Aoife said. She also said, “You will remain swans for nine hundred years until you hear the ring of a Christian bell.”
She went back to the castle and told Lir that his children had drowned. Lir was so sad he started crying. He rushed down to the lake and saw no children. He saw only four beautiful swans.
One of them spoke to him. It was Fionnuala who spoke to him. She told him what Aoife had done to them. Lir got very angry and turned Aoife into an ugly moth. When Lir died the children were very sad. When the time came they moved to the Sea of Moyle.
Soon the time came for their final journey. When they reached Inish Glora they were very tired. Early one morning they heard the sound of a Christian bell. They were so happy that they were human again. The monk (some even say it was St. Patrick himself) sprinkled holy water on them and then Fionnuala put her arms around her brothers and then the four of them fell on the ground. The monk buried them in one grave. That night he dreamed he saw four swans flying up through the clouds. He knew the children of Lir were with their mother and father.
The Unnamed Lake, Poem by : Frederick George Scott (1861-1944)
The Unnamed Lake,Comeragh Mountains,Co.Waterford
Irish Landscape Photography
The Unnamed Lake
By : Frederick George Scott (1861-1944)
IT sleeps among the thousand hills
Where no man ever trod,
And only nature’s music fills
The silences of God.
Great mountains tower above its shore,
Green rushes fringe its brim,
And o’er its breast for evermore
The wanton breezes skim.
Dark clouds that intercept the sun
Go there in Spring to weep,
And there, when Autumn days are done,
White mists lie down to sleep.
Sunrise and sunset crown with gold
The peaks of ageless stone,
Where winds have thundered from of old
And storms have set their throne.
.
No echoes of the world afar
Disturb it night or day,
The sun and shadow, moon and star
Pass and repass for aye.
‘Twas in the grey of early dawn,
When first the lake we spied,
And fragments of a cloud were drawn
Half down the mountain side.
Along the shore a heron flew,
And from a speck on high,
That hovered in the deepening blue,
We heard the fish-hawk’s cry.
Among the cloud-capt solitudes,
No sound the silence broke,
Save when, in whispers down the woods,
The guardian mountains spoke.
.
Through tangled brush and dewy brake,
Returning whence we came,
We passed in silence, and the lake
We left without a name.
Sunday evenings, time for some sunset thinking.
Fujifilm x100, 35mm lens, iso 100
Lower Lake of Killarney, County Kerry
Irish Landscape Photography : Nigel Borrington
Sunday evenings are to myself the end of another week, they mark a time to clear your mind. To think about a new week and to define the end of the last, what-ever happened last week (good or bad) has gone.
It time for some ……..
Sunset Thinking
Do you ever watch the sunset
And just sit and think about things
Just you and the sky and darkness
Giving your thoughts some wings
Perhaps you’ve got some troubles
And don’t know what to do
Or you just plain need to get away
To spend a little time with you
Sunset beauty makes you feel as though
Your life has meaning after all
To see a sight so extraordinary
Makes you feel capable, strong and tall
It’s funny how flashes of color
Like a sunset or sunrise can inspire
It can calm your inner self a bit
It’s a scene you can never tire
The serenity gives you a chance
To put things in perspective
Life can be overwhelming at times
And a sunset can be reflective
So when the sky lights up next time
Let your gaze do some drinking
Soak up all the amazing sights
And do some sunset thinking!
Written by : Marilyn Lott
Nigel Borrington 
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